"Dunham," said Staniford, "did I hand you that sketch-block of mine
to put in your bag, when we were packing last night?"

"Yes, I've got it."

"I'm glad of that. Did you see Murray yesterday?"

"No; he was at Cambridge."

"I thought he was to have met you at Parker's." The conversation no
longer included Mr. Hicks or the subject he had introduced; after a
moment's hesitation, he walked away to another part of the ship. As
soon as he was beyond ear-shot, Staniford again spoke: "Dunham, this
girl is plainly one of those cases of supernatural innocence, on the
part of herself and her friends, which, as you suggested, wouldn't
occur among any other people in the world but ours."

"You're a good fellow, Staniford!" cried Dunham.

"Not at all. I call myself simply a human being, with the elemental
instincts of a gentleman, as far as concerns this matter. The girl
has been placed in a position which could be made very painful to her.
It seems to me it's our part to prevent it from being so. I doubt if
she finds it at all anomalous, and if we choose she need never do so
till after we've parted with her. I fancy we can preserve her
unconsciousness intact."

"Staniford, this is like you," said his friend, with glistening eyes.
"I had some wild notion of the kind myself, but I'm so glad you spoke
of it first."