Part 1 (2/2)
”Then-Q.... The only other accommodation I can offer you is a two-berth stateroom on the main-deck.”
”An outside room?”
”Yes, sir. You can see for yourself. Here it is: berths 432 and 433.
You'll find it quite cosy, I'm sure.”
Staff nodded, eyeing the cubicle indicated by the pencil-point.
”That'll do,” said he. ”I'll take it.”
”Then-Q. Upper'r lower berth, sir?”
”Both,” said Staff, trying not to look conscious--and succeeding.
”Both, sir?”--in tones of pained expostulation.
”Both!”--reiterated in a manner that challenged curiosity.
”Ah,” said the clerk wearily, ”but, you see, I thought I understood you to say you were alone.”
”I did; but I want privacy.”
”I see. Then-Q.”--as who should say: _Another mad Amayrican_.
With this the clerk took himself off to procure a blank ticket.
While he waited, Staff was entertained by s.n.a.t.c.hes of a colloquy at the far end of the counter, where the other patron was being catechised as to his pedigree by the other booking-clerk. What he heard ran something to the following effect:
”What did you say the name was, sir?”
”_The_ name?”
”If you please--”
”What name?”
”Your name, sir.”
”I didn't say, did I?”
”No, sir.”
”Ah! I thought not.”
Pause; then the clerk, patiently: ”Do you mind giving me your name, sir, so that I may fill in your ticket?”
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