before he had time to contradict his impulse,
he had actually doubled up his long legs and crawled into the small
space Bobby made for him beside her. If she persisted in preferring this
noisy bunch of inanity to a quiet stroll on the promenade-deck with him,
then he supposed for the time being he must humor her.

Youth and love and moonlight at sea are a magic combination, however,
and Percival soon decided that even though it was deuced uncomfortable
to be huddled up like that, with both feet asleep, yet there were
compensations.

"Sing!" commanded Bobby, and he joined obediently in the chorus. As the
night wore on a caressing coolness crept into the air, and the crowd
gathered into a closer group. Percival could feel Bobby breathing near
him, and could look down undisturbed into her upturned face as she sang
with passionate abandon to the moon. She seemed to have entirely lost
sight of her surroundings and was off on some high adventure of her own,
leaving him free to watch her to his heart's content.

It was a situation fraught with danger; yet he lingered. He did more:
he slipped his hand beneath the rug and sought cautiously for hers. As
their palms met, and her small fingers closed responsively over his,
such a thrill of satisfaction passed over him as he had never felt
before. His old wounds were suddenly healed, life became a passionate
love-song on a languorous, moonlit sea. But his ecstasy ceased with the
music. Bobby's voice broke the spell with frightful distinctness:

[Illustration: "If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are
welcome to it."]

"If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are welcome to it.
Andy's got the other one; but if you don't mind, we'll put them all
together, like that, on top of the steamer-rug."

During the laugh that followed he managed to got to his feet and make
his escape. He had never been so angry in his life; he even included
himself in his devastating wrath. Why shouldn't he have been insulted,
laughed at, jeered at! When one allows oneself to associate with such
people, he ought to expect such behavior.

_"Plebeians!_" he snarled as he jerked together the curtains of his
berth and turned his face to the wall.

IX

DRAGGING ANCHOR

Of course, after what had happened, nothing could induce Percival to
join the Weston party in Japan. He left a note of formal regret, and
hastened ashore on the first launch in the morning. His one desire was
to a