ose
things, and do them equally well; I know a few who can, well off,
well-bred girls--you must know a great many. They are clever to begin
with, and they are taught that way; it is a perfect treat to meet
them and watch them, but I never want to imitate them, even if I
could--and there is no danger of that. I would rather be in the
engine-room, with my coat off, a bit greasy and very profane, and
doing something. There would be more flesh and blood there, even if it
were a bit grubby; I believe I'm more at home with people who can
do--well, what's necessary, even if it is not exactly nice."

Rawson-Clew knew exactly the kind of woman she had described for the
deck--he met them often; charming creatures, far as the poles asunder
from the girl who spoke of them; he liked them--in moderation, and in
their place, much as his forebears of fifty years ago had liked
theirs, the delicate, sensitive creatures of that era. He had never
regarded Julia in that light; he found her certainly more entertaining
as a companion, though also very far short of the standard as a woman
and an ornament.

"The people in the engine-room," he observed, "would certainly be more
useful in an emergency; still, life is not made up entirely of
emergencies."

"No," Julia answered; "and in between times such people are better not
on show--I know that; that is why I do not care for the drawing-room
side of things, I don't know enough to shine in them."

"Do you think it is a matter of knowledge?" he asked, "or inclination?
If it comes to knowledge I should say you had a rather remarkable
stock of an unusual sort, and at first hand. That may not be what is
required for a complete drawing-room success, though I am not sure
that it is not more interesting--say for an excursion--than a flitting
glance at the subjects you mention, and about eighteen or twenty more
that you did not."

Julia looked up, half pleased, doubtful as to whether or not to
interpret this as a compliment; she never knew quite how much he meant
of what he said; his manner was exactly the same, whether he was in
fun or in earnest. But if she thought of asking him now she was
prevented, for at that moment Mr. Gillat's watch slipped out of her
belt into her lap, and she saw the time.

"How late is it!" she exclaimed. "We ought to have started
half-an-hour ago; it will take me two hours, and more, to get home
from here, even if I go by the tram in the town."

She rose as she spok