XIII. Playing the GameThe Buccaneer was like a funeral ship. A pall of horror and dread hung over her. It was so difficult to keep up pretenses with one another that the guests remained in their own cabins for the most part, and we went to ours. Our charming sitting-room was like a haven of refuge where we could relax and say what we pleased.
In the middle of the morning, while we were there, a tap came at the door, and upon being told to enter, Emil and Celia ran in. As soon as the door closed they flew to each other’s arms and kissed, regardless of us.
“Well!” said Mme. Storey.
“Please,” said Celia, blushing adorably, “can we stay in here awhile? It’s so comfy here.”
“Surely!”
The instant permission was given they forgot about us. Plumping down on a little sofa, they kissed again as
