Part 20 (1/2)

”I am!”

The terse affirmative had a disturbing effect on Mr Murray's composure.

He had evidently not expected it, and had the grace to look confused.

”I say, you know, I didn't know... 'Pologise! Didn't really mean it like that!” He pondered, and pondering was struck with a brilliant inspiration. ”I _say_! The couple who came on board with you yesterday! You don't mean to say--”

”I didn't mean to say,” corrected Katrine calmly, ”but yes! you have guessed correctly. That was my brother and his wife!”

”_Brother_!” Mr Murray whistled softly, but made no attempt to apologise a second time. Katrine diagnosed him as being little in the habit of eating humble pie.

”I _say_,” he exclaimed once more, ”if a girl like that gave up all that for _me_, I should be ruined for life! Bowled over! Eaten up with conceit. She's a corker! _Isn't_ she a corker, now?”

”She is generally considered to be excessively--corking!” agreed Katrine demurely, and then suddenly she laughed; a gay, light-hearted laugh.

What a change it was! To sit on this wide s.h.i.+ning deck among a crowd of strangers, to exchange frivolities with one of the handsomest of men, also a stranger, to feel the sun beat on her neck, on her outstretched feet, to have nothing to do, and nothing to care for, but her own ease and enjoyment! She laughed, leaning her head against the back of her chair; the sun flecked her hair with gold, the clear healthy tints of her skin seemed to gain in colour in the dancing light. Mr Murray hitched his chair a degree nearer, and spoke in a lower voice:

”I say... You don't know any one on board?”

”Not yet. No.”

”How would it be if--what would you say to fixing up a steams.h.i.+p flirtation?”

Katrine straightened herself with a jerk.

”I _beg_ your pardon! I don't quite understand--”

”Oh, it's simple enough. Always do it myself on a long voyage. Much more satisfactory and amusin' than just trustin' to luck... Spot some one you like, and agree to sit together on deck, be partners at sports, moon about,--_under_ the moon!--confide your woes, comfort and soothe, sentimentalise a bit--especially towards the end--”

Katrine threw him a glance, beneath lids haughtily dropped.

”Tha-anks. It sounds very interesting. And then--?”

”Oh, then?” Mr Murray twisted his moustache. ”Then--you're there, you know, and er--you say good-bye!”

”Very interesting!” commented Katrine once more, ”but I'm afraid I can't play. The idea doesn't thrill me, and besides I have a--friend coming on board at Port Said, who will naturally expect some attention.”

”Rotten luck!” sighed Mr Murray, and for sixty seconds on end looked seriously downcast. ”But of course,” he added thoughtfully, ”if it were only to Port Said--”

”Just so. It would be a pity to break the continuity of your scheme.

You have had quite a long voyage already. How is it that you have not already--” Katrine stopped short, as an expression of discomfiture flitted over the handsome face, and altered the character of her enquiry. ”May I ask how _many_ others you have asked before me?”

”Not--many!” stammered Mr Murray ingenuously. His gaze wandered uneasily round the deck, and Katrine's following his, met a pair of mischievous brown eyes set in a plump girlish face. The eyes were fixed upon herself with an expression of such interest and curiosity as told its own tale, and Katrine hastily lowered her white umbrella.

Simultaneously the plump girl lowered her own, but it shook! Austin Murray, looking from one wobbling frame to the other, chewed his moustache in disgust.

”Perhaps,” he explained stiffly, ”I am too ambitious. One needs must love the highest... There are, of course, a dozen girls who would be only too glad--”

”Then,” said Katrine hastily, ”pray lose no time in securing one of the number. If you don't, they may be snapped up. Don't let me detain--”

Mr Murray leaped from his seat, bowed deeply, and walked rapidly away.