"Sure to," said Percival, with unusual alacrity. "Hard shower any minute."
Mrs. Weston rose reluctantly.
"Don't you think you'd better come down, too, Bobby, and close yours?"
"Mine's closed, thanks. I'll take your place and hold Mr. Hascombe's tea-cup."
Now, when a person with outrageously blue eyes is leaning on the arm of your steamer-chair, steadying your saucer for you, and the wind has blown everybody else off the deck except a bow-legged Chinese steward who is absorbed in tying things down, it does look as if Fate meant to be propitious.
Percival put his cup in his saucer and let his fingers touch the small hand that held it.
"It's quite worth while," he said, "getting a jab in the wrist, to have you looking after me like this"
"It's quite worth while," he said, "getting a jab in the wrist, to have you looking after me like this. I wonder if you realize that you saved my life last night?"