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the other. And just about enough room between them for a slender person to pass. But I didn’t have to share it with anybody, and I didn’t expect to be inside it much. I intended to make full use of my time on board. I took off my hat and was about to brush my hair when there was a tap at my door. I expected it was my luggage, but instead another steward entered.
    “Note for you, miss,” he said, in cheerful Cockney tones.
    “For me? Are you sure?”
    “Miss Molly Murphy, E deck, cabin 231. Is that you?” “Yes, it is, but—”
    He grinned. “Maybe you’ve already got an admirer on board. Great place for romance, Atlantic liners.” He winked, handed me the note, and was gone.
    I stared at my name written on the envelope. Not any handwriting that I knew. For one dreadful moment I had thought that it might be from Daniel, begging me to reconsider. I decided it must be some last-minute instructions from Mr. Burke and tore it open.
    “Dear Miss Murphy,” the note began, “You can’t imagine how delighted I was to find that we were to be shipmates. I too am traveling back on the Majestic to my homeland. I’d be most grateful if you’d come to my cabin as soon as you read this. I’ve a small matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
    It was signed Oona Sheehan.

Six
    I tidied my hair and made myself presentable before I made my way back to the main reception area, where I knew I’d find a staircase.
    “Can I help you, miss?” a fierce voice echoed after me. “I’m going up to A deck,” I said. “Isn’t this the right way?” “A deck is first-class cabins, miss.” His look was inscrutable. “Precisely,” I answered. “I have just received an invitation from a friend in first class to visit her at her cabin right away.” I waved the note at him.
    “Very good, miss,” he said. “Allow me to escort you. What cabin number is it?”
    I smirked as he led the way up the stairs. I don’t think I’ll ever learn to be humble.
    The steward knocked on the cabin door, and we were rewarded with “Enter” in those deep melodious tones that had charmed audiences across the globe.
    The steward poked his head around the door. “If you please, ma’am, there's a young lady to see you—a Miss Murphy?” “How delightful. Send her in,” Oona said.
    I swept into the cabin, past the rather astonished steward, savoring every instant. Then I just stood there and gasped.
    Oona Sheehan's cabin was nothing like my own. It was as big asmost drawing rooms, with a double bed against one wall, surrounded by white built-in wardrobes and cupboards. Under her porthole there was a daybed, a couple of gilt-edged chairs, and a low table decorated with a big bowl of flowers. There were more flowers on every surface of the room, great displays of them, orchids and roses and every kind of exotic bloom. Oona was lounging on the daybed, looking stunning in a black-and-white striped traveling suit with a matching black-and-white feather ornament in her hair. She didn’t attempt to sit up but raised a hand to greet me.
    “Molly Murphy. How good of you to come and visit me.”
    “How did you know I’d be on board?” I asked. “Did Mr. Burke tell you?”
    She laughed. “Not at all. Very tight-lipped is our dear Tommy. Pure coincidence, actually. We bumped into each other buying tickets at the White Star office, so he had to confess he was sending you to Ireland. I wormed it out of him actually. I do have a knack of making gentlemen confess things they never intended to.” That enchanting smile lingered on her lips before she went on, “Do take a seat. There's a bottle of champagne already on ice. I know it's morning and I don’t usually drink before noon, but I always make it a rule to drink champagne when sailing. I find it calms the stomach wonderfully. I am never seasick.”
    “No champagne for me, thank you. It goes straight to my head,” I said.
    “Mine too.” She chuckled. “It can probably be blamed for a host of