"Oh, I know! What does that matter?" Katrine's voice took an impatient tone. "Every one says the same thing,--Dorothea, you, himself,--and it is so unilluminating! I have asked so often for a description, and it has never gone further than that: `He is not handsome!'" Captain Bedford laughed. "That must be because he has no distinctive features. What would describe him, would apply equally well to a dozen others. Isn't that often the case? Take these men on board!--how many of them could you describe to me so that I could pick them out of the ruck?" "But I don't like people who are alike!" objected Katrine pettishly. "I wanted Captain Blair to be different. However, I shall soon be able to judge for myself. Handsomeness doesn't matter, but personality does. I can feel in a minute whether I am going to care for a person or not. I want to care for--Dorothea's friends!" Captain Bedford did not answer; he stood tall and straight by her side, his face set in a mask-like composure, but Katrine was conscious that he understood the implication. His silence was more eloquent than words. The dusk fell; out of the glare of the vessel's searchlight the banks glided by, melting into the great desert beyond. Katrine bade her companion good-night, and retired early to rest. Mrs Mannering had not yet descended, and for once Katrine regretted her company, and ceaseless flow of conversation. Her own thoughts were out of control. It was only by an effort that she could concentrate them on Jim Blair, as was her custom in moments of leisure, for Jim had contradicted himself, and blurred his own image, while another personality had sprung vividly into life. She fell asleep with Jim's name on her lips, wafting towards him mental messages of hope, but when dreams came, she dreamt of grey eyes in a sunburnt face, and waking before dawn, lay conscious, seeing them once again. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.