"Oh, nothing," said Alison--"nothing whatever. You've only been haughty and aloof and icy and indifferent and everything else that men seem to consider becoming to them when they think they're neglected." "You certainly don't expect me to _like_ seeing Arkroyd at your side all the time?" "Oh!" she laughed contemptuously--"Arkroyd!" And she dismissed that gentleman with a fine sweeping gesture. "Can I help it if he happens to travel on the same ship?" They halted at the top of the steps. "Then it was accidental--?" he asked seriously. "Staff!" The young woman made an impatient movement. "If I didn't like you--_you_ know how much--upon my word I'd snub you for that. You are a bear!" "A moment ago I was a dear." "Oh, well, I'm fond of all sorts of animals." "Then I advise your future husband to keep you away from zoos." "Oh, Staff! But wouldn't you want me to come to see you once in a while?" He jerked up one hand with the gesture of a man touched in a fencing-bout. "You win," he laughed. "I should've known better...." But she made her regard tender consolation for his discomfiture. "You haven't told me about the play--our play--_my_ play?" "It's finished." "Not really, Staff?" She clasped her hands in a charmingly impulsive way. He nodded, smiling. "Is it good?" "You'll have to tell me that--you and Max." "Oh--Max! He's got to like what I like. When will you read it to me?" "Whenever you wish." "This afternoon?" "If you like." "Oh, good! Now I'm off for my nap--only I know I shan't sleep, I'm so excited. Bring the 'script to me at two--say, half-past. Come to my sitting-room; we can be alone and quiet, and after you've finished we can have tea together and talk and--talk our silly heads off. You darling!" She gave him a parting glance calculated to turn any man's head, and swung off to her rooms, the very spirit of grace incarnate in her young and vigorous body. Staff watched her with a kindling eye, then shook his head as one who doubts--as if doubting his own worthiness--and went off to his own stateroom to run over the type-script of his fourth act: being fortunate in having chosen a ship which carried a typist, together with almost every other imaginable convenience and alleged luxury of life ashore. Punctual to the minute, manuscript under his arm, he knocked at the door of the sitting-room of the _suite de luxe_ occupied by the actress. Her maid admitted him and after a moment or two Alison herself came out of her stateroom, in a wonderful Parisian tea-gown cunningly designed to render her even more bewilderingly bewitching than ever. Staff thought her so, beyond any question, and as unquestionably was his thought mirrored in his eyes as he rose and stood waiting for her greeting--very nearly a-tremble, if the truth's to be told.