He looked at me, and then beyond me at Pat. "I'm _really_ grateful," he repeated. Even Mrs. Shuster understood that the rare plant preferred to remain in the kitchen garden with the vegetables, and that she could not uproot it. "Well," she said reluctantly, "I'm sorry you feel that way. But do let me do _something_ to--to show my appreciation of your gallant conduct on the _Arabic_. You're evidently a man of education. I see that, in spite of all you say. It isn't true, is it, that you're an American?" "Quite true, madam," he answered coolly. "Do I speak like a foreigner?" "Not like a _foreigner_, exactly. But--well, I don't know. I must take your word for it. I guess, though, you've spent a good deal of time in other countries?" "I've been here and there," he admitted. "I had the craze for travel in my blood as a boy." As he spoke, he smiled again, as if at some odd memory. "I dare say you know several languages?" suggested Mrs. Shuster. "Oh, I've picked up Russian--and a little French, and Italian, and Spanish." "You ought to get quite a good position, then." "I intend to try." "But they say it's almost impossible to find work anywhere now, without influence," she went on. "Have _you_ got influence?" "None whatever, madam." Her face brightened. She'd have been bitterly disappointed if he had answered differently! "Well, we'll see what I can do for you on land, since you won't accept anybody's assistance on water," chirped the benefactress. "With your knowledge of languages, you might help me in my Propaganda." (The way she spoke that word spelt it with a capital.) The Stormy Petrel flushed up again, whether with annoyance or embarrassment or a mad desire to laugh, I couldn't decide. He murmured that she was very kind, but that he wouldn't trouble her. She must have many people to look after, and he would be all right in one way or another. He wasn't afraid. "No, indeed, I'm sure you're never afraid of _anything_!" protested Mrs. Shuster, breathless with enthusiasm. But at this moment the officer who was our guide felt that the limit had been reached, even for a millionairess. He hinted that there was more to see of third-class life, and moved us on when our leading lady had offered a royal handshake to the steerage hero. She would no doubt have pinned a V. C. on his breast if she had had one handy, but was obliged to content herself with screaming out reassurances as we were torn away: "I won't forget you. I shall see you again, and suggest something _definite_." Of course we didn't want to see more third-class life but we had to pretend to. We saw where the poor dears (Mrs. Shuster called them poor dears) slept and bathed (if at all) and ate. After a boring ten or fifteen minutes we were returning by the way we had come, when a sheet of paper blew along the deck. It made straight for me as if asking to be saved, and I saved it; otherwise it would have fluttered into the sea.