"Then there ought to be. Do you know her?" "Who? The Angel of--" "Don't guy me, Dr. Alderson. This is serious." "Oh, these sudden seizures are seldom fatal." "Do you know her?" persisted the Tyro. "No." The Tyro sighed. Meantime there progressed the ceremony of enthroning the queen in one of the most desirable chairs on the deck, while the bodyguard fussed eagerly about, tucking in rugs, handing out candy, flowers, and magazines, and generally making monkeys of itself. (I quote the Tyro's regrettable characterization of these acts of simple courtesy.) "But I know some of her admirers," continued the other. "The lop-eared youth on the right is young Sperry, son of the famous millionaire philanthropist and tax-dodger, Diedrick Sperry. He'll be worth ten millions one of these days." "Slug!" said the Tyro viciously. "That huge youngster at her feet is Journay, guard on last year's Princeton team. He's another gilded youth." "Unfledged cub," growled the Tyro. "Very nice boy, on the contrary. The bristly-haired specimen who is ostentatiously making a sketch of her is Castleton Flaunt, the illustrator." "_Poseur!_" "The languid, brown man with the mustache is Lord Guenn, the polo-player." "Cheap sport!" "You don't seem favorably impressed with the lady's friends." "Hang her friends! I want to know who she is." "That also might be done. Do you see the tall man coming down the deck?" "The old farmer with the wispy hair?" "Precisely. That 'farmer' is the ablest honest lawyer in New York. Also, he knows everybody. Oh, Judge Enderby," he hailed. "Howdy, Alderson," responded the iron-gray one. "Glad to see you. Now we shall have some whist." "Good! Judge, do you know the pretty girl over yonder, in that chair?" The judge put up an eyeglass. "Yes," he said. "Tell my young friend here who she is, will you?" "No." "Why not?" A cavernous chuckle issued from between the lawyer's rigid whiskers. "Because I like his looks." "Well, I like hers, sir," said the Tyro naïvely. "Very likely, young man. Very likely. So I'm helping to keep you out of trouble. That child is pretty enough to give even an old, dried-up heart like mine the faint echo of a stir. Think of the devastation to a young one like yours. Steer clear, young man! Steer clear!" And the iron-gray one, himself an inveterate sentimentalist, passed on, chuckling over his time-worn device for quickening romance in the heart of the young by the judicious interposition of obstacles. He strolled over to the center of attraction, where he was warmly greeted. To the Wondrous Vision he said something which caused her to glance over at the Tyro. That anxious youth interpreted the look as embodying something of surprise, and--could it be?--a glint of mischief. "Never mind," said Alderson, "I dare say we can find some way, some time to-day or to-morrow." "To-morrow!" broke in the Tyro fretfully. "Do you realize that this voyage is only a five-day run?"