THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
question of mine. You know all about these scientific guys. Did you ever hear of a professor named Warren?"
"Warren?" ruminatively. "Why, yes. Professor Warren wrote a capital book on gravities."
"Is he alive?"
"No; I believe he has been dead some years. If I'm not mistaken you'll find his book in the ship's library. It contains a good deal of nautical information."
"Thanks. I'll see if I can get it. "
"It is rather dry," the old man warned.
"That won't matter. I'm curious to learn what keeps my feet on deck when I ought to be standing on my head."
"You are a very amusing young man, Mr. Grogan."
"I know it. I ought to be in the two-a-day vaudeville."
He found the book. It was dry, dry as anything William had ever picked up in the form of books. It was a combination of chemistry, geology, and arithmetic. A casual glance was enough. He sat down in his chair and patiently waited for the girl to appear. It was a mean kind of trap; and under ordinary circumstances he would not have stooped to it. But how in the world could he protect her if he did not know what menaced her?
She arrived at the moment the steward was serving the broth. She smiled brightly, dropped the Baedekers to the deck, plumped into her chair,
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