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78 "He was caught on a liner, wasn't he?" murmured Mrs. Blair.

There was a slight rattle behind us. I turned quickly. Mr. Chichester had dropped his coffee-cup.

Our party soon broke up; Mrs. Blair went below to sleep and I went out on deck. Colonel Race followed me.

"You're very elusive, Miss Beddingfeld. I looked for you everywhere last night at the dance."

"I went to bed early," I explained.

"Are you going to run away to-night too? Or are you going to dance with me?"

"I shall be very pleased to dance with you," I murmured shyly. "But Mrs. Blair?"

"Our friend, Mrs. Blair, doesn't care for dancing."

"And you do?"

"I care for dancing with you."

"Oh!" I said nervously.

I was a little afraid of Colonel Race. Nevertheless I was enjoying myself. This was better than discussing fossilized skulls with stuffy old professors! Colonel Race was really just my ideal of a stern silent Rhodesian. Possibly I might marry him! I hadn't been asked, it is true, but, as the Boy Scouts say, Be Prepared! And all women, without in the least meaning it, consider every man they meet as a possible husband for themselves or for their best friend.

I danced several times with him that evening. He danced well. When the dancing was over, and I was thinking of going to bed, he suggested a turn round the deck. We walked round three times and finally subsided into two deck-chairs. There was nobody else in sight. We made desultory conversation for some time.

"Do you know, Miss Beddingfeld, I think that I once met your father? A very interesting man—on his own subject, and it's a subject that has a special fascination for