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Sam rose。 His heart was light。 He had never； of course； supposed that the girl was anything but perfect； but it was nice to find his high opinion of her corroborated by one who had no reason to exhibit her in a favourable light。 He understood her point of view and sympathised with it。 An idealist； how could she trust herself to Eustace Hignett？ How could she be content with a craven who； instead of scouring the world in the quest for deeds of daring do； had fallen down so lamentably on his first assignment？ There was a specious attractiveness about poor old Eustace which might conceivably win a girl's heart for a time； he wrote poetry； talked well； and had a nice singing voice； but； as a partner for life 。。。 well； he simply wouldn't do。 That was all there was to it。 He simply didn't add up right。 The man a girl like Wilhelmina Bennett required for a husband was somebody entirely different 。。。 somebody； felt Samuel Marlowe； much more like Samuel Marlowe。
Swelled almost to bursting…point with these reflections； he went on deck to join the ante…luncheon promenade。 He saw Billie almost at once。 She had put on one of these nice sacky sport…coats which so enhance feminine charms； and was striding along the deck with the breeze playing in her vivid hair like the female equivalent of a Viking。 Beside her walked young Mr。 Bream Mortimer。 Sam had been feeling a good deal of a fellow already； but at the sight of her weling smile his self…esteem almost caused him to explode。 What magic there is in a girl's smile！ It is the raisin which； dropped in the yeast of male placency； induces fermentation。
〃Oh； there you are； Mr。 Marlowe！〃
〃Oh； there you are；〃 said Bream Mortimer； with a slightly different inflection。
〃I thought I'd like a breath of fresh air before lunch；〃 said Sam。
〃Oh； Bream！〃 said the girl。
〃Hello？〃
〃Do be a darling and take this great heavy coat of mine down to my state…room will you？ I had no idea it was so warm。〃
〃I'll carry it；〃 said Bream。
〃Nonsense。 I wouldn't dream of burdening you with it。 Trot along and put it on the berth。 It doesn't matter about folding it up。〃
〃All right；〃 said Bream moodily。
He trotted along。 There are moments when a man feels that all he needs in order to be a delivery wagon is a horse and a driver。
〃He had better chirrup to the dog while he's there； don't you think？〃 suggested Sam。 He felt that a resolute man with legs as long as Bream's might well deposit a cloak on a berth and be back under the half…minute。
〃Oh； yes！ Bream！〃
〃Hello？〃
〃While you're down there just chirrup a little more to poor Pinky。 He does appreciate it so！〃
Bream disappeared。 It is not always easy to interpret emotion from a glance at a man's back； but Bream's back looked like that of a man to whom the thought has occurred that； given a couple of fiddles and a piano； he would have made a good hired orchestra。
〃How is your dear little dog； by the way？〃 enquired Sam solicitously； as he fell into step by her side。
〃Much better now； thanks。 I've made friends with a girl on boarddid you ever hear her nameJane Hubbardshe's a rather well…known big…game hunter and she fixed up some sort of a mixture for Pinky which did him a world of good。 I don't know what was in it except Worcester Sauce； but she said she always gave it to her mules in Africa when they had the botts 。。。 it's very nice of you to speak so affectionately of poor Pinky when he bit you。〃
〃Animal spirits！〃 said Sam tolerantly。 〃Pure animal spirits！ I like to see them。 But； of course； I love all dogs。〃
〃Oh； do you？ So do I！〃
〃I only wish they didn't fight so much。 I'm always stopping dog fights。〃
〃I do admire a man who knows what to do at a dog fight。 I'm afraid I'm rather helpless myself。 There never seems anything to catch hold of。〃 She looked down。 〃Have you been reading？ What is the book？〃
〃It's a volume of Tennyson。〃
〃Are you fond of Tennyson？〃
〃I worship him；〃 said Sam reverently。 〃Those〃 he glanced at his cuff〃those Idylls of the King！ I do not like to think what an ocean voyage would be if I had not my Tennyson with me。〃
〃We must read him together。 He is my favourite poet！〃
〃We will！ There is something about Tennyson。。。。〃
〃Yes； isn't there！ I've felt that myself so often！〃
〃Some poets are whales at epics and all that sort of thing； while others call it a day when they've written something that runs to a couple of verses； but where Tennyson had the bulge was that his long game was just as good as his short。 He was great off the tee and a marvel with his chip…shots。〃
〃That sounds as though you played golf。〃
〃When I am not reading Tennyson； you can generally find me out on the links。 Do you play？〃
〃I love it。 How extraordinary that we should have so much in mon。 We really ought to be great friends。〃
He was pausing to select the best of three replies when the lunch bugle sounded。
〃Oh； dear！〃 she cried。 〃I must rush。 But we shall see one another again up here afterwards？〃
〃We will；〃 said Sam。
〃We'll sit and read Tennyson。〃
〃Fine！ Eryou and I and Mortimer？〃
〃Oh； no； Bream is going to sit down below and look after poor Pinky。〃
〃Does hedoes he know he is？〃
〃Not yet；〃 said Billie。 〃I'm going to tell him at lunch。〃
CHAPTER FOUR
It was the fourth morning of the voyage。 Of course； when this story is done in the movies they won't be satisfied with a bald statement like that； they will have a Spoken Title or a Cut…Back Sub…Caption or whatever they call the thing in the low dens where motion…picture scenario…lizards do their dark work； which will run：
AND SO； CALM AND GOLDEN； THE DAYS WENT BY； EACH FRAUGHT WITH HOPE AND YOUTH AND SWEETNESS； LINKING TWO YOUNG HEARTS IN SILKEN FETTERS FORGED BY THE LAUGHING LOVE…GOD。
and the males in the audience will shift their chewing gum to the other cheek and take a firmer grip of their panions' hands and the man at the piano will play 〃Everybody wants a key to my cellar〃 or something equally appropriate； very soulfully and slowly； with a wistful eye on the half…smoked cigarette which he has parked on the lowest octave and intends finishing as soon as the picture is over。 But I prefer the plain frank statement that it was the fourth day of the voyage。 That is my story and I mean to stick to it。
Samuel Marlowe； muffled in a bathrobe； came back to the stateroom from his tub。 His manner had the offensive jauntiness of the man who has had a cold bath when he might just as easily have had a hot one。 He looked out of the porthole at the shimmering sea。 He felt strong and happy and exuberant。
It was not merely the spiritual pride induced by a cold bath that was uplifting this young man。 The fact was that； as he towelled his glowing back； he had suddenly e to the decision that this very day he would propose to Wilhelmina Bennett。 Yes； he would put his fortune to the test； to win or lose it all。 True； he had only known her for four days； but what of that？
Nothing in the way of modern progress is more remarkable than the manner in which the attitude of your lover has changed concerning proposals of marriage。 When Samuel Marlowe's grandfather had convinced himself； after about a year and