But Blueskin was not to be silenced. Lucy, would you like to be my date for the silly little dance they call the Junior Prom?\" There was a pregnant pause as she digested the information. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. ” Ann Veronica hesitated, and then stood in the open doorway and regarded her father’s stern presence.
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