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and gloomy, and his hand shook as he lighted a cigarette. Her eyes opened wider. "Are you ill, then?" she asked gently. "You don't look ill." "No, I'm not ill. By the way, do you smoke? It didn't occur to me to offer you a cigarette." She shook her head, watching him with a puzzled frown. She wondered why his hands gave her such a vague sense of discomfort as she watched him light another cigarette. It was not until she was in her bunk that night that she remembered that his nails were bitten and ragged--one finger was bleeding and inflamed. "No, I'm not ill. I'm sick, though. The Pater says I want stiffening. This is my third trip in the stiffening process. Like a bally collar in a laundry! Oh, damn life! What's he know about it, anyway? Have you got a deck-chair?" "Yes, but--" "I'm going to put mine on the fo'c'sle presently. If we don't peg out claims they'll all go, and the fo'c'sle is the best place in the steerage. Where's yours? I'll t-take it there, if you like." He had begun to stammer in the last sentence, suddenly self-conscious again. She told him where her chair was on deck, and next minute, without another word, he was half-way along the alley-way, leaving the tea-things where they were. Then he turned back and spoke from several yards away. "I suppose you're wondering what the devil I'm doing in the steerage, aren't you? A chap like me--a medical student! And I'll t-tell you w-why it is! The p-pater's too mean to pay for me to go decently." He was looking down at his shoes as he spoke. She noticed that the nice brown eyes were quite far apart; the forces that set them so had not meant them to be shifty. His chin was strong, too, but his mouth was loose and much too mobile. It quivered when he had finished speaking. She reflected that if she had seen him in a train reading, and not speaking to anyone, she would have thought him very nice to look at. Only his nervousness and his mannerisms made him unpleasant. "He'd go first class himself if he was going to Hades! Steerage is good enough for Louis--as there's no way of letting him run behind like a little dog!" He began to bite his lower lip, and his fingers twisted aimlessly. "I hadn't thought of the lack of dignity in it," said Marcella calmly. "I said I'd come steerage, and here I am. I'm sure it's going to be jolly." "I don't suppose you'd notice, being a farmer's daughter," he said. "I never notice anything, and I never w
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