on deck again. I met Miss Treherne and her father. They both inquired
for the sick man, and I told Belle--for she seemed much interested--the
nature of such malarial fevers, the acute forms they sometimes take, and
the kind of treatment required. She asked several questions, showing a
keen understanding of my explanations, and then, after a moment's
silence, said meditatively: "I think I like men better when they are
doing responsible work; it is difficult to be idle--and important too."

I saw very well that, with her, I should have to contend for a long time
against those first few weeks of dalliance on the 'Fulvia'.

Clovelly joined us, and for the first time--if I had not been so
egotistical it had appeared to me before--I guessed that his somewhat
professional interest in Belle Treherne had developed into a very
personal thing. And with that thought came also the conception of what
a powerful antagonist he would be. For it improves some men to wear
glasses; and Clovelly had a delightful, wheedling tongue. It was
allusive, contradictory (a thing pleasing to women), respectful yet
playful, bold yet reverential. Many a time I have longed for Clovelly's
tongue. Unfortunately for me, I learned some of his methods without his
art; and of this I am occasionally reminded at this day. A man like
Clovelly is dangerous as a rival when he is not in earnest; when he IS in
earnest, it becomes a lonely time for the other man--unless the girl is
perverse.

I left the two together, and moved about the deck, trying to think
closely about Roscoe's case, and to drive Clovelly's invasion from my
mind. I succeeded, and was only roused by Mrs. Falchion's voice beside
me.