Miss More was the lady in charge of the pretty deaf child, and the latter was curled up in the next chair with a little piece of crochet work.  Margaret had soon found out that Miss More was a very nice woman, after her own taste, who was given neither to flattery nor to prying, the two faults from which celebrities are generally made to suffer most by fellow-travellers who make their acquaintance.  Miss More was evidently delighted to find herself placed on deck next to the famous singer, and Margaret was so well satisfied that the deck steward had already received a preliminary tip, with instructions to keep the chairs together during the voyage.

‘Yes,’ said Margaret, in answer to Miss More’s remark.  ’I don’t believe there is the least reason for thinking that Mr. Van Torp is not immensely rich.  Do you know him?’

‘Yes.’

Miss More did not seem inclined to enlarge upon the fact, and her face was thoughtful after she had said the one word; so was Margaret’s tone when she answered: 

‘So do I.’

Each of the young women understood that the other did not care to talk of Mr. Van Torp.  Margaret glanced sideways at her neighbour and wondered vaguely whether the latter’s experience had been at all like her own, but she could not see anything to make her think so.  Miss More had a singularly pleasant expression and a face that made one trust her at once, but she was far from beautiful, and would hardly pass for pretty beside such a good-looking woman as Margaret, who after all was not what people call an out-and-out beauty.  It was odd that the quiet lady-like teacher should have answered monosyllabically in that tone.  She felt Margaret’s sidelong look of inquiry, and turned half round after glancing at little Ida, who was very busy with her crochet.

‘I’m afraid you may have misunderstood me,’ she said, smiling.  ’If I did not say any more it is because he himself does not wish people to talk of what he does.’

‘I assure you, I’m not curious,’ Margaret answered, smiling too.  ’I’m sorry if I looked as if I were.’

’No—­you misunderstood me, and it was a little my fault.  Mr. Van Torp is doing something very, very kind which it was impossible that I should not know of, and he has asked me not to tell any one.’

‘I see,’ Margaret answered.  ’Thank you for telling me.  I am glad to know that he—­’

She checked herself.  She detested and feared the man, for reasons of her own, and she found it hard to believe that he could do something ‘very, very kind’ and yet not wish it to be known.  He did not strike her as being the kind of person who would go out of his way to hide his light under a bushel.  Yet Miss More’s tone had been quiet and earnest.  Perhaps he had employed her to teach some poor deaf and dumb child, like little Ida.  Her words seemed to imply this, for she had said that it had been impossible that she should not know; that is, he had been forced to ask her advice or help, and her help and advice could only be considered indispensable where her profession as a teacher of the deaf and dumb was concerned.