“I am the Bandolero!” sang Sam blithely through the soap. “I am, I am the Bandolero! Yes, yes, I am the Bandolero!” The untidy heap of bedclothes in the lower berth stirred restlessly. “Oh, God!” said Eustace Hignett thrusting out a tousled head. Sam regarded his cousin with commiseration. Horrid things had been happening to Eustace during the last few days, and it was quite a pleasant surprise each morning to find that he was still alive. “Feeling bad again, old man?” “I was feeling all right,” replied Hignett churlishly, “until you began the farmyard imitations. What sort of a day is it?” “Glorious! The sea....” “Don’t talk about the sea!” “Sorry! The sun is shining brighter than it has ever shone in the history of the race. Why don’t you get up?” “Nothing will induce me to get up.” “Well, go a regular buster and have an egg for breakfast.” Eustace Hignett shuddered. He eyed Sam sourly. “You seem devilish pleased with yourself this morning!” he said censoriously. Sam dried the razor carefully and put it away. He hesitated. Then the desire to confide in somebody got the better of him. “The fact is,” he said apologetically, “I’m in love!” “In love!” Eustace Hignett sat up and bumped his head sharply against the berth above him. “Has this been going on long?” “Ever since the voyage started.” “I think you might have told me,” said Eustace reproachfully. “I told you my troubles. Why did you not let me know that this awful thing had come upon you?” “Well, as a matter of fact, old man, during these last few days I had a notion that your mind was, so to speak, occupied elsewhere.” “Who is she?” “Oh, a girl I met on board.” “Don’t do it!” said Eustace Hignett solemnly. “As a friend I entreat you not to do it. Take my advice, as a man who knows women, and don’t do it!” “Don’t do what?” “Propose to her. I can tell by the glitter in your eye that you are intending to propose to this girl—probably this morning.” “Not this morning—after lunch. I always think one can do oneself more justice after lunch.” “Don’t do it. Women are the devil, whether they marry you or jilt you. Do you realise that women wear black evening dresses that have to be hooked up in a hurry when you are late for the theatre, and that, out of sheer wanton malignity, the hooks and eyes on those dresses are also made black? Do you realise...?” “Oh, I’ve thought it all out.” “And take the matter of children. How would you like to become the father—and a mere glance around you will show you that the chances are enormously in favour of such a thing happening—of a boy with spectacles and protruding front teeth who asks questions all the time? Out of six small boys whom I saw when I came on board, four wore spectacles and had teeth like rabbits. The other two were equally revolting in different styles. How would you like to become the father...?” “There is no need to be indelicate,” said Sam stiffly. “A man must take these chances.”