“Miss Endacott is probably reading one of Paley’s sermons to Mrs. Hichens,” he answered a little sarcastically. “I wonder why the devil some one doesn’t look after your libraries on board ship, Doctor. There are no less than eleven different volumes of sermons there. No doubt you got them cheap, but who wants them, especially on a voyage where one is supposed to send one’s morals overland.”
The doctor rose to his feet.
“There is nothing I can do for you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Gregory replied. “Have a drink.”
The doctor shook his head.
“I am in earnest,” he persisted. “I am still at your disposal. If you want a sleeping draught, I’m your man, or an ambassador—well, I’m here. Otherwise——”
“It happens to be otherwise,” Gregory declared, a little brutally.
“Perkins,” Gregory Ballaston asked, sitting up in his bunk a few mornings later, and gazing distastefully at his tea, “was I very drunk last night?”
“No more than usual, sir,” was the man’s somewhat gloomy answer. “The chief steward in the second class sent for me and I brought you up myself.”