"I'll see about the cabin at once then, shall I? It's impossible to work in yours, with all your trunks."
"My dear fellow," Sir Eustace replied. "My cabin is intended (a) for me to sleep in, and (b) to attempt to dress in. I never had any intentions of allowing you to sprawl about the place making an infernal clicking with that typewriter of yours."
"That's just what I say, Sir Eustace, we must have somewhere to work"
Here I parted company from them, and went below to see if my removal was in progress. I found my steward busy at the task.
"Very nice cabin, miss. On D deck. No. 13."
"Oh, no!" I cried. "Not 13."
Thirteen is the one thing I am superstitious about. It was a nice cabin too. I inspected it, wavered, but a foolish superstition prevailed. I appealed almost tearfully to the steward.
"Isn't there any other cabin I can have?"
The steward reflected.
"Well, there's 17, just along on the starboard side. That was empty this morning, but I rather fancy it's been allotted to some one. Still, as the gentleman's things aren't in yet, and as gentlemen aren't anything like so superstitious as ladies, I dare say he wouldn't mind changing."
I hailed the proposition gratefully, and the steward departed to obtain permission from the purser. He returned grinning.
"That's all right, miss. We can go along."
He led the way to 17. It was not quite as large as No. 13, but I found it eminently satisfactory.
"I'll fetch your things right away, miss," said the steward.
