“For the day you told me the deck was not clean.” “It wasn’t clean.” “I think I am going to kiss you.” “Ralph!” “It is coming on. About the time that the bishop gets here, I shall lean over and—” She eyes me, and sees determination in my face. She changes color. “You wouldn’t!” “Wouldn’t I!” She rises hastily, and stands looking down at me. I am quite sure at that moment that she detests me, and I rather like it. There are always times when we detest the people we love. “If you are going to be arbitrary just because you can—” “Yes?” “Marsh and the rest are in the smoking room. Their sitting-room is empty.” Quite calmly, as if we are going below for a clean handkerchief or a veil or a cigarette, we stroll down the great staircase of the liner to the Turners’ sitting-room, and close the door. And—I kiss her.