"Really, this is very mysterious. When are you coming back?"
"I am not coming back."
"Oh, well," said Morris, "I give it up. I think I have scored the unusual triumph of managing to be wrong in everything that I have said. Have I not?"
"I think you have."
"And you refuse to put me right?"
"Certainly."
"I don't think you are quite fair, Miss Earle."
"I don't think I ever claimed to be, Mr. Morris. But I am tired of walking now. You see, I have been walking the deck for considerably longer than you have. I think I shall sit down for a while."
"Let me take you to your chair."
Miss Earle smiled. "It would be of very little use," she said.
The deck steward was not to be seen, and Morris, diving into a dark and cluttered-up apartment, in which the chairs were piled, speedily picked out his own, brought it to where the young lady was standing, spread it out in its proper position, and said:
"Now let me get you a rug or two."
"You have made a mistake. That is not my chair."
"Oh, yes, it is. I looked at the tag. That is your name, is it not?"
