"Splendid," said Mrs. Larpent, putting down "The Dark Flower." "I'd love a rubber or two."
"And I," said Fraser,—"that is if you don't want to play, Mrs. Keene."
"Thank you, but I never touch cards." The little lady returned to her astonished examination of the drawings of wispy girls in freak garments. She invariably waxed almost hectic over the bi-monthly issues of her favorite journal, every word of which she read with minute care. It was to her rather like the thing at which a dog barks consistently and with a very fever of rage but wouldn't avoid on any account.
A steward appeared. "The card table," said Franklin.
"But before we play," said Beatrix, lighting a cigarette, "perhaps you'll tell us the geography of the yacht. Pelham, I won't sleep peacefully unless my curiosity is satisfied. I asked Malcolm at dinner but he's apparently as much of a landlubber as I am." She knew instinctively that this was the very best way to please Franklin and she felt that she owed him something for her unsocial manner in the dining saloon. She intended to enjoy the cruise and therefore it would be tactful, to say the least of it, to keep him in a good temper.
Franklin was obviously pleased. The Galatea was his favorite toy. He picked up a photograph album, laid it open on a table and pointed to an admirable picture of the yacht lying at anchor in the Biscayne Bay.
Beatrix bent over it. Her dress left very little to the imagination.
"I bought her after the death of her first owner," he said. "He was an eccentric invalid, as you will see when I explain certain things. She was built in the Clyde about eight years ago. Her tonnage is sixteen hundred and seven, length all over three hundred and sixteen feet, beam thirty-five feet six and she carries a crew of forty, all told. You can see how beautiful her lines are. To my mind she has nothing of her class to compete against. It's true that some sailors carp at one thing in her appearance,—the way her bridge is placed. Do you see? Instead of being well forward as it usually is, you will notice that it's away aft,—only a few feet from the funnel."
"Why?" asked Beatrix, not even mildly interested.
"To prevent anyone from walking over the library. A cranky idea of the old man I told you about. In fact the Galatea was designed to meet his peculiar notions."