Free 63 Ola and the Sea Wolf by Barbara Cartland Page B

London rather than dining alone with her.
    “Good evening, Ola,” he began, “I think the wind is dropping a little and certainly The Sea Wolf is travelling more smoothly than she was yesterday.”
    “I have found that,” Ola smiled. “But my elbows are black and blue from having to support me as I was thrown against the cabin walls.”
    “You should have stayed in bed!” the Marquis said automatically.
    “That would be an admission of defeat, which I most dislike acknowledging at any time!”
    He gave her a sharp glance as if he thought she was referring to other things than the movement of the sea.
    She quickly turned the conversation to the subject she wished to discuss with him, but had not yet had the opportunity,
    “I found in your bookcase a volume of Hansard,” she said, “and I see that you made a speech in the House of Lords regarding the employment of young children in factories and coalmines.”
    “You read it?” the Marquis asked in surprise.
    “I only wish I could have heard it. It is a subject I feel very strongly about, as every woman should.”
    It struck the Marquis that no woman he had known in the past had been the slightest degree interested either in his speeches or in the children as young as four and five who were made to work, sometimes as much as twelve hours a day and beaten if they fell asleep.
    For a moment he thought that Ola was only toadying up to him and would soon start pleading with him not to send her back to her stepmother.
    To his surprise she not only talked with unmistakable sincerity on the subject, but also had obviously read quite a number of the reports, which had been published in the newspapers besides being discussed in Parliament.
    They argued over the rights and wrongs of employing child labour and also as to what compensation could be given to the employers if it was forbidden.
    The Marquis found himself waxing very eloquent about the measures he intended to bring before the House of Lords in the future and he discovered that Ola was interested in the Reform Bill as well.
    “Is it true,” she asked, “that the King scrawled on a piece of paper, ‘ I consider dissolution tantamount to Revolution ’?”
    “Who told you that?” the Marquis enquired.
    “I must have read it somewhere, but I cannot believe, old though he is, that the King does not realise that reforms are really necessary.”
    “The trouble is,” the Marquis replied, “he has a deep rooted dislike of elections and only with difficulty made up his mind to dissolve Parliament. I think, too, as he is only a simple sailor, he finds the Bill in all its complexity very difficult to understand.”
    “I have always been sure,” Ola said, “that he has not the brilliant brain of his brother, the late King George IV.”
    “That is true,” the Marquis agreed, “and, although I am fond of His Majesty, I cannot help sometimes remembering that Greville wrote, ‘ He is but a plain, vulgar, hospitable gentleman, opening his doors to all the world with a frightful Queen and a posse of bastards ’.”
    As he spoke, he realised who he was speaking to and said quickly,
    “I apologise.”
    “No, please don’t do that,” Ola said. “I like to be talked to as if I was your equal rather than a foolish unfledged girl without a brain in her head.”
    “I would certainly never say that about you,” the Marquis replied.
    A Steward cleared the table, but left a decanter of brandy and one of claret in front of the Marquis.
    They were ship’s decanters made so that it was impossible to upset them or to turn them over as they had very broad bases and were of extremely heavy cut crystal.
    Ola looked at them for a minute and then she said,
    “As this is our last dinner together, my Lord, I would like to propose a toast.”
    The Marquis raised his eyebrows and then, feeling that as she was trying to be pleasant he must be the same, he replied,
    “I shall join with pleasure in any toast you suggest, Ola. Will