engagement, but what right had he to go about the place expecting her
to be engaged to him? Eustace Hignett, no doubt, looked upon the poor
girl as utterly heartless. Marlowe regarded her behaviour as thoroughly
sensible. She had made a mistake, and, realising this at the eleventh
hour, she had had the force of character to correct it. He was sorry
for poor old Eustace, but he really could not permit the suggestion
that Wilhelmina Bennett--her friends called her Billie--had not behaved
in a perfectly splendid way throughout. It was women like Wilhelmina
Bennett--Billie to her intimates--who made the world worth living in.

Her friends called her Billie. He did not blame them. It was a
delightful name and suited her to perfection. He practised it a few
times. "Billie ... Billie ... Billie...." It certainly ran pleasantly off
the tongue. "Billie Bennett." Very musical. "Billie Marlowe." Still
better. "We noticed among those present the charming and popular Mrs.
'Billie' Marlowe."

A consuming desire came over him to talk about the girl to someone.
Obviously indicated as the party of the second part was Eustace
Hignett. If Eustace was still capable of speech--and after all the boat
was hardly rolling at all--he would enjoy a further chat about his
ruined life. Besides, he had another reason for seeking Eustace's
society. As a man who had been actually engaged to marry this supreme
girl, Eustace Hignett had an attraction for Sam akin to that of some
great public monument. He had become a sort of shrine. He had taken on
a glamour. Sam entered the state-room almost reverentially with
something of the emotions of a boy going into his first dime museum.

The exhibit was lying on his back staring at the roof of the berth. By
lying absolutely still and forcing himself to think of purely inland