"But I dare say some of them are nice," said Miss Cahere, who evidently
thought well of human nature.

"Very likely."

And Cartoner lapsed into his odd and somewhat disconcerting
thoughtfulness.

Miss Cahere continued to glance at him beneath her dark lashes--dark
lashes around blue eyes--with a guileless and wondering admiration. He
certainly was a very good-looking man, well set up, with that quiet air
which bespeaks good breeding.

"Have you seen the ship on the other side?" she asked, after a pause; "a
sailing ship. You cannot see it from here."

As she spoke she made a little movement, as if to show him the spot
from whence the ship was visible. Cartoner followed her meekly, and Mr.
Mangles, left behind in his deck-chair, slowly sought his cigar-case.

"There," said Miss Cahere, pointing out a sail on the distant horizon.
"One can hardly see it now. When I first came on deck it was much
nearer. That ship's officer pointed it out to me."

Cartoner looked at the ship without much enthusiasm.

"I think," said Miss Cahere, in a lower voice--she had a rather
confidential manner--"I think sailors are very nice, don't you?
But . . . well, I suppose one ought not to say that, ought one?"

"It depends what you were going to say."

Miss Cahere laughed, and made no reply. Her laugh and a glance seemed,
however, to convey the comfortable assurance that whatever she had been
about to say would not have been applicable to Cartoner himself. She
glanced at his trim, upright figure.

"I think I prefer soldiers," she said, thoughtfully.

Cartoner murmured something inaudible, and continued to gaze at the ship
he had been told to look at.

"Did you know my uncle before you came on board, or were you brave
enough to force him to speak? He is so silent, you know, that most
people are afraid of him. I suppose you had met him before."

"No. It was a mere accident. We were neither of us ill. We were both
hungry, and hurried down to a meal. And the stewards placed us next to
each other."

Which was a long explanation, without much information in it.

"Oh, I thought perhaps you were in the diplomatic service," said Miss
Cahere, carelessly.

For an instant Cartoner's eyes lost all their vagueness. Either Miss
Cahere had hit the mark with her second shot, or else he was making a
mental note of the fact that Mr. Mangles belonged to that amiable body
of amateurs, the American Diplomatic Corps.

Mr. Mangles had natural