It was a telegram to the sailing-master of the yacht, informing him that we had arranged to return to Ramsgate that evening, and that we should be ready to sail for the Mediterranean with the next tide.
"I only waited for your return," said Eustace, "to send the telegram to the office." He crossed the room as he spoke to ring the bell.

I stopped him.
"I am afraid I can't go to Ramsgate to-day," I said.
"Why not ?" he asked, suddenly changing his tone, and speaking sharply.
I dare say it will seem ridiculous to some people, but it is really true that he shook my resolution to go to Major Fitz-David when he put his arm round me.

Even a mere passing caress from _him_ stole away my heart, and softly tempted me to yield.

But the ominous alteration in his tone made another woman of me.

I felt once more, and felt more strongly than ever, that in my critical position it was useless to stand still, and worse than useless to draw back.
"I am sorry to disappoint you," I answered.