“She was an extraordinarily pretty girl....” 

 “So was mine! I give you my honest word I never in all my life saw such....” 

 “Of course, if you prefer that I postponed my narrative?” said Eustace coldly. 

 “Oh, sorry! Carry on.” 

 “She was an extraordinarily pretty girl....” 

 “What was her name?” 

 “Wilhelmina Bennett. She was an extraordinarily pretty girl, and highly intelligent. I read her all my poems, and she appreciated them immensely. She enjoyed my singing. My conversation appeared to interest her. She admired my....” 

 “I see. You made a hit. Now get on with the story.” 

 “Don’t bustle me,” said Eustace querulously. 

 “Well, you know, the voyage only takes eight days.” 

 “I’ve forgotten where I was.” 

 “You were saying what a devil of a chap she thought you. What happened? I suppose, when you actually came to propose, you found she was engaged to some other johnny?” 

 “Not at all! I asked her to be my wife and she consented. We both agreed that a quiet wedding was what we wanted—she thought her father might stop the thing if he knew, and I was dashed sure my mother would—so we decided to get married without telling anybody. By now,” said Eustace, with a morose glance at the porthole, “I ought to have been on my honeymoon. Everything was settled. I had the licence and the parson’s fee. I had been breaking in a new tie for the wedding.” 

 “And then you quarrelled?” 

 “Nothing of the kind. I wish you would stop trying to tell me the story. I’m telling you. What happened was this: somehow—I can’t make out how—mother found out. And then, of course, it was all over. She stopped the thing.” 

 Sam was indignant. He thoroughly disliked his Aunt Adeline, and his cousin’s meek subservience to her revolted him. 

 “Stopped it? I suppose she said ‘Now, Eustace, you mustn’t!’ 

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