attention, and she looked curiously from Lois to the man beside her.
About thirty-five, with a passably good figure, irregular, if honest,
features, and an expression usually somewhat grave, he made no pretensions
to any exterior advantage. He could apparently be gay, as now, but his
gaiety did not conceal the fact that it was unusual. Altogether, he had
nothing about him which appealed to her, but Beatrice Cary was inclined
to resent Lois' obvious intimacy with him as something which accentuated
her own isolation.

"Can you make out what Mr. Travers is saying?" Lois asked, turning
suddenly to her. "I can't hear a word, and I'm sure it's awfully
interesting. Captain Stafford, do you know?"

"I can guess," he answered, half smiling. "When Travers has a suggestion
to make, it usually means that some one has to stump up."

There was a general laugh. Travers looked around.

"Some one has accused me falsely," he declared. "I have a prophetic sense
of injury."

"On the contrary, that is what I am suffering from," Stafford retorted.
"Since hearing that you have a new scheme, I have been hastily reckoning
how many weeks' leave I shall have to sacrifice to pay for it."

Travers shook his head.

"As usual--wrong, my dear Captain," he said. "My scheme has two parts. The
first part is known to you all, though for the benefit of weak memories, I
will repeat it. Ladies and gentlemen, in this Station we have the honor of