eyeing the girl!"

"Jolly nice bit of fluff," said Jenks meditatively, staring fixedly
across the deck.

"Where?" queried the Major, fumbling for his eyeglass.

"Get on there, please, gentlemen," called a ship's official.

"Damn it! mind my leg!"

"Cheerio, old son, here we are again!"

"I say, Tommy, did you get to the Alhambra last night, after all? What?
Well, I couldn't see you, anyhow."

To which accompaniment, Peter pushed his way across the deck. "Sorry,
padre," said a V.A.D. who blocked the way, bending herself back to let
him pass, and smiling. "Catch hold," called out Donovan, swinging a
couple of chairs at him. "No, sir, it's not my chair"--to a Colonel
who was grabbing at one already set out against the rail.

The Colonel collected it and disappeared, Jenks appearing a moment later,
red-faced, through the crush. "You blamed fool," he whispered, "it's that
girl's. I saw her put one here and edged up on it, only some fool got in
my way. Still (hopefully), perhaps she'll come back."

Between them they got four chairs into a line and sat down, all, that is,
save Jenks, who stood up, in a bland and genial way, as if to survey the
crowd impartially. How impartially soon appeared. "Damn!" he exploded.