“At last!” murmured Eveleen Ambrose with heartfelt relief, gainingthe unsteady deck by dint of a frantic clutch at her husband’s arm,and cannoning helplessly against an unfortunate man who happened to bestanding near the head of the ladder. “Oh, I beg your pardon!” as hestaggered wildly and recovered himself, with a look of mortal offenceon his face; “I am so sorry—I——”
“Steady!” said her husband sharply, retrieving her from anunintentional rush across the deck, and setting her up in a corner.“What’s the matter with you—eh?”
“The matter?” Eveleen’s Irish mind was so unhappily constituted thatit saw humour wh