THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
"She isn't flustered and doesn't pretend to be, which is better still. And, by George, she can play!"
"You seem very much interested all of a sudden," said the flirt at his elbow. "She is probably some musician returning to her studies."
"Shouldn't wonder," replied Camden; and then, with a smile palpably seasoned with malice: "She has grace and beauty too."
His neighbor frowned. She had no liking for the trend of conversation. On his part he was quite indifferent; she had served his turn.
"But what in the world does she see in that Irishman?"
"He probably amuses her, as he does us. She is an unusual person. Just as everything threatened to sink into the doldrums, she startles us all by proving herself to be a fine musician. Next thing we'll hear she's the daughter of some multi-millionaire. If I were going all the way around I'd cultivate her. A woman, to play like that, must in her gentler moods be charming."
Later Camden went in search of William and found him among the giant cables in the bow.
"Hello!" he hailed. "What are you doing up here among the paint-pots and old iron?"
"Trying to hurry the boat along," said William, without appreciable cordiality.
He did not care to talk to any one. He had chosen this isolated spot because he was superlatively unhappy. His desire had been to crawl away somewhere (like a dumb animal that's been
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