A shout of laughter followed, in which Dick joined, notwithstanding his disgust. It was not quite clear, even to himself, why he should object so strongly to young Anstruther’s behaviour, but he recognised that he resented it very vigorously. Georgia was nothing to him, of course; but--well, a man who had gone through it all before was sorry to see another young beggar making an ass of himself. He did not know whether to be more angry with the youth for his foolishness, or with Miss Keeling for tolerating it. She did not welcome her youthful adorer’s attentions--he was obliged to confess this when he saw her treatment of him; but why should she allow them to continue when a word to Sir Dugald would have rid her of them? And the boy was really painfully absurd, whether he was taking immediate possession of any empty chair within a radius of a dozen yards from Miss Keeling, or scowling at those who did not give him a chance of getting nearer. Georgia was a favourite on board--there was no denying it. The younger men, with the conspicuous exception of Fitz, looked askance at her, certainly, and avoided her neighbourhood, muttering something about the New Woman; but the elders declared her unanimously to be the most sensible girl on board. “A woman who knows any amount, and never parades it, but is always ready to learn from other people, and doesn’t want to talk dress or scandal, is refreshing to meet,” they said, not troubling themselves to remember that they would have fought their hardest to repress in their own daughters any approach to Georgia’s particular tastes. To his own sore discomfort of mind, Dick surprised the same inconsistency in himself. It was one of his favourite theories that women who aped men (the term was a comprehensive one, and covered a good many things, from studying art to riding a bicycle), lost by such a course of action any right to help or special courtesy from men. And yet he found himself watching jealously for any chance of moving Miss Keeling’s deck-chair for her, or fetching her a book from the library, without even waiting to be asked. It gave him a curious feeling of gratification to catch the look of pleased surprise on her face, and to receive words of thanks from her lips--to know, in short, that he had made her indebted to him, and that she liked it. Moreover, in spite of his former unhappy experience, he seized every opportunity of conversation with her, and engaged her in endless arguments on the Woman Question--a species of mental activity which Georgia hated at all times, and which was particularly distasteful to her in this case, since only the very surface of the subject could of necessity be touched.