His Other Wife: A Novel — page 225: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GRAFF CONWAY. ay, CHAPTER XXIII. GRAFF CONWAY. It was the state-room of the mate which had been offered by him for the lady’s use the first night which Faith spent aboard the cutter. With the deftness of a sailor the old man had tidied up the little apartment, taking from it his own ‘‘traps,” and adding to its scant furniture whatever the ship afforded that was likely to contribute to the comfort of the fair occupant for whom it was destined during at least three or four days, as they then thought. Clean, fresh linen was about the only luxury connected with it, but there was nothing wanting to make it a passably comfortable dormitory. Over the berth and: the narrow settle against the wall the old seaman had spread some of the pretty, bright chintz from the store of material he was carrying to his daughter, and upon the little shelves suspended around he had placed a few books, and shells, and bits of coral. To the door of this little closet he now approached. Unconsciously to himself his footfall grew lighter, and his hard, weather-beaten face more reverent, as he neared the threshold, made sacred by the virginal presence that ten- anted its interior, and over whose safety he was now the self-constituted guardian. He rapped gently on the door. comicbooks:co im