“Ever since the voyage started.”
“I think you might have told me,” said Eustace reproachfully. “I told you my troubles. Why did you not let me know that this awful thing had come upon you?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, old man, during these last few days I had a notion that your mind was, so to speak, occupied elsewhere.”
“Who is she?”
“Oh, a girl I met on board.”
“Don’t do it!” said Eustace Hignett solemnly. “As a friend I entreat you not to do it. Take my advice, as a man who knows women, and don’t do it!”
“Don’t do what?”
“Propose to her. I can tell by the glitter in your eye that you are intending to propose to this girl—probably this morning.”
“Not this morning—after lunch. I always think one can do oneself more justice after lunch.”
“Don’t do it. Women are the devil, whether they marry you or jilt you. Do you realise that women wear black evening dresses that have to be hooked up in a hurry when you are late for the theatre, and that, out of sheer wanton malignity, the hooks and eyes on those dresses are also made black? Do you realise...?”