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Rh "Well," I said, stifling a yawn, "for that matter, no more would you, my dear Pagett."

He gave me a reproachful look.

"You told me to get Cabin 17."

There is a touch of the "boy upon the burning deck" about Pagett.

"My dear fellow," I said testily, "I mentioned No. 17 because I happened to observe that it was vacant. But I didn't mean you to make a stand to the death about it—13 or 28 would have done us equally well."

He looked hurt.

"There's something more, though," he insisted. "Miss Beddingfeld got the cabin, but this morning I saw Chichester coming out of it in a furtive sort of way."

I looked at him severely.

"If you're trying to get up a nasty scandal about Chichester, who is a missionary—though a perfectly poisonous person—and that attractive child, Anne Beddingfeld, I don't believe a word of it," I said coldly. "Anne Beddingfeld is an extremely nice girl—with particularly good legs. I should say she had far and away the best legs on board."

Pagett did not like my reference to Anne Beddingfeld's legs. He is the sort of man who never notices legs himself—or, if he does, would die sooner than say so. Also he thinks my appreciation of such things frivolous. I like annoying Pagett, so I continued maliciously:

"As you've made her acquaintance, you might ask her to dine at our table to-morrow night. It's the Fancy Dress dance. By the way, you'd better go down to the barber and select a fancy costume for me."

"Surely you will not go in fancy dress?" said Pagett, in tones of horror.

I could see that it was quite incompatible with his idea of my dignity. He looked shocked and pained. I had