"
"That's good, after the way you came aboard."
"How did I come aboard?"
"Oh, I didn't see you, but I heard about it."
Kirk flushed uncomfortably, muttering: "The acoustics of this ship
are great. A man can't fall asleep but what somebody hears it."
Stein laughed: "Don't get sore; all ships are alike--we have to
talk about something. Sorry I can't help you with the shirt
question. Deuced careless of them to lose your luggage."
"Yes! It makes one feel about as comfortable as a man with a
broken arm and the prickly heat. Something's got to be done about
it, that's all." He glared enviously at the well-dressed men about
the room.
Over in a corner, propped against the leather upholstery, was Mr.
Cortlandt, as pale, as reserved, and as saturnine as at breakfast.
He was sipping Scotch-and-soda, and in all the time that Anthony
remained he did not speak to a soul save the waiter, did not shift
his position save to beckon for another drink. Something about his
sour, introspective aloofness displeased the onlooker, who shortly
returned to the deck.
The day was warming up, and on the sunny side of the ship the
steamer chairs were filling. Two old men were casting quoits; a
noisy quartette was playing shuffle-board.
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