"I trust that you will enjoy the
remainder of your promenade. Good morning!"
He summoned the deck steward to arrange his rugs, and lay back in his
steamer chair, eating broth which he loathed, and watching Jocelyn
Thew and Katharine Beverley through spectacles which somewhat impaired
his vision. The two had strolled together to the side of the ship to
watch a shoal of porpoises go by.
"I see that you are acquainted with our hero of the seaplane," Jocelyn
Thew remarked.
She nodded.
"I met him once at Washington and once at the polo games."
"Tell me what you think of him?"
She smiled.
"Well," she confessed, "I scarcely know how to think of him. I must
say, though, that in a general way I should think any profession would
suit him better than diplomacy."
"You find him stupid?"
"I do," she admitted, "and in a particularly British way."
Jocelyn glanced thoughtfully across at Crawshay, who was contemplating
his empty cup with apparent regret.
"You will not think that I am taking a liberty, Miss Beverley, if I
ask you a question?"
"Why should I? Is it so very personal?"
"As a matter of fact, it isn't personal at all. I was only going to
ask you if you would mind telling me what our friend Mr. Crawshay was
talking to you about just now?" "Are you really interested?" she
asked, with an air of faint surprise.
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