place to absolute conventionality. Weldon smiled to himself, as he
noted the change. He had been at sea for three days now, and those
three days had been chiefly spent in trying to penetrate the social
shell of his next neighbor at table. It was not so much that Ethel
Dent was undeniably pretty as that he had been piqued by her frosty
reception of his efforts to supplement the services of a careless waiter.

Now, uninvited, he dropped into the empty chair next her own.

"If I may?" he said questioningly, as he raised his cap. "Yes, I
have had a doctor twice. Once was measles, once a collar bone broken
in football. Both times, I was urged to take a walk after luncheon.
Is Miss Arthur--?"

He hesitated for the right word. Still ignoring his obvious hint,
Ethel Dent supplied the word, without charity for her luckless
chaperon. "Horridly seasick." She pointed out to the level steely-
gray sea. "And on this duck-pond," she added.

Her accent was expressive. Weldon laughed.

"Perhaps she isn't as used to the duck-pond as you are."

The girl brushed a lock of vivid gold hair from her eyes; then she
sat up, to add emphasis to her words. "Miss Arthur has been to
America and back seven times and to Australia once," she said
conclusively.

"As globe-trotter, or as commercial traveller?"