"A bit. Nothing to hurt. Smell the singed hair?"
There was a sort of gaiety in her tone. She might have been frightened
but she certainly was not overcome and suffered from no reaction. This
confirmed and augmented if possible Mr. Powell's good opinion of her as a
"jolly girl," though it seemed to him positively monstrous to refer in
such terms to one's captain's wife. "But she doesn't look it," he
thought in extenuation and was going to say something more to her about
the lighting of that flare when another voice was heard in the companion,
saying some indistinct words. Its tone was contemptuous; it came from
below, from the bottom of the stairs. It was a voice in the cabin. And
the only other voice which could be heard in the main cabin at this time
of the evening was the voice of Mrs. Anthony's father. The indistinct
white oval sank from Mr. Powell's sight so swiftly as to take him by
surprise. For a moment he hung at the opening of the companion and now
that her slight form was no longer obstructing the narrow and winding
staircase the voices came up louder but the words were still indistinct.
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