Robert always does get his own way." "If you hadn't persuaded me to come ashore for that wretched luncheon," said Mrs.Chalk, in a deep voice, "we should have been all right." "I'm sure I wasn't to know," said her friend, "although I certainly thought it odd when Robert said that he had got it principally for you.
I could see you were a little bit flattered." Mrs.Chalk, trembling with anger, sought in vain for a retort.
"Well, it's no good staying here," said Mrs.Stobell, philosophically.
"We had better get home." "_Home!_" cried Mrs.Chalk, as a vision of her bare floors and dismantled walls rose before her.

"When I think of the deceitfulness of those men, giving us champagne and talking about the long evenings on board, I don't know what to do with myself.

And your father was one of them," she added, turning suddenly upon Edward.
Mr.Tredgold disowned his erring parent with some haste, and, being by this time rather tired of the proceedings, suggested that they should return to the inn and look up trains--a proposal to which Mrs.Chalk, after a final glance seawards, silently assented.

With head erect she led the way down to the town again, her bearing being so impressive that George the waiter, who had been watching for them, after handing her a letter which had been entrusted to him, beat a precipitate retreat.
The letter, which was from Mr.Stobell, was short and to the point.
It narrated the artifice by which Mr.Chalk had been lured away, and concluded with a general statement that women were out of place on shipboard.

This, Mrs.Stobell declared, after perusing the letter, was intended for an apology.
Mrs.Chalk received the information in stony silence, and, declining tea, made her way to the station and mounted guard over her boxes until the train was due.