a shy, red-cheeked emigrant girl, who giggled a good deal in corners
with him; they sat for long hours, as the trip went on, saying nothing,
staring out vacantly to sea, and occasionally holding each other's
hands. At tea-time Marcella saw Louis come to the door of the saloon,
look round with a frown, become very red in the face as he saw several
people look at him casually, and beat a hasty retreat. She had a long
talk with the thin girl during the evening, learning that she had been
under-housemaid in a girls' school; she asked Marcella her name,
volunteering the information that she was Phyllis Mayes, only her
friends called her Diddy; she seemed to have got over much of her grief
at parting with her sister. After a while she explained, blushing and
giggling, that one of the cook's assistants had made friends with her
the previous night and given her two meringues.

"A friend of mine who came out as a stewardess told me the best thing
you could do was to make friends with the cooks or the butchers--because
there's all sorts of little tit-bits they can get for you. Young
Bill--him that gave me the meringues--has got a mate called Winkle. I'll
give you an intro., if you like. He's quite a toff. He's been a waiter."

Marcella made some excuse, but when Phyllis--or Diddy--went away to her
appointment with Bill she sat for a long time thinking. She was already
feeling disillusioned.

At nine o'clock she decided to go below. In the shadow of the steps
leading to the upper deck Mr. Peters and Mrs. Hetherington were sitting
very close together. A little bright tray was at their feet, and a big
bottle with a cap and scarf of gold foil stood sentinel over two glasses
of such an exquisite shape that Marcella stared hard at them as she
passed, saying "Good night." Mr. Peters was smiling with filmy, vacuous