"Really, Mr. Crawshay," she said, "I think that you are one of the most inquisitive people I ever met."
"It really isn't inquisitiveness," he protested. "It's just obstinacy.
I hate to leave a problem unexplained."
"Then to prevent any further misunderstanding, Mr. Crawshay," she concluded, a little coldly, "let me tell you that there are private reasons which make any further questioning on your part, concerning this matter, impertinent."
Crawshay lifted his cap. He had the air of a man who has received a rebuff which he takes in ill part.
"I will not risk your further displeasure, Miss Beverley," he said, stopping by his steamer chair. "I trust that you will enjoy the remainder of your promenade. Good morning!"
He summoned the deck steward to arrange his rugs, and lay back in his steamer chair, eating broth which he loathed, and watching Jocelyn Thew and Katharine Beverley through spectacles which somewhat impaired his vision. The two had strolled together to the side of the ship to watch a shoal of porpoises go by.
"I see that you are acquainted with our hero of the seaplane," Jocelyn
Thew remarked.
She nodded.
"I met him once at Washington and once at the polo games."
"Tell me what you think of him?"