"Much better now, thanks. I've made friends with a girl on board--did you ever hear her name--Jane Hubbard--she's a rather well-known big-game hunter and she fixed up some sort of a mixture for Pinky which did him a world of good. I don't know what was in it except Worcester Sauce, but she said she always gave it to her mules in Africa when they had the botts ... it's very nice of you to speak so affectionately of poor Pinky when he bit you." "Animal spirits!" said Sam tolerantly. "Pure animal spirits! I like to see them. But, of course, I love all dogs." "Oh, do you? So do I!" "I only wish they didn't fight so much. I'm always stopping dog fights." "I do admire a man who knows what to do at a dog fight. I'm afraid I'm rather helpless myself. There never seems anything to catch hold of." She looked down. "Have you been reading? What is the book?" "It's a volume of Tennyson." "Are you fond of Tennyson?" "I worship him," said Sam reverently. "Those--" he glanced at his cuff--"those Idylls of the King! I do not like to think what an ocean voyage would be if I had not my Tennyson with me." "We must read him together. He is my favourite poet!" "We will! There is something about Tennyson...." "Yes, isn't there! I've felt that myself so often!" "Some poets are whales at epics and all that sort of thing, while others call it a day when they've written something that runs to a couple of verses, but where Tennyson had the bulge was that his long game was just as good as his short. He was great off the tee and a marvel with his chip-shots." "That sounds as though you played golf." "When I am not reading Tennyson, you can generally find me out on the links. Do you play?" "I love it. How extraordinary that we should have so much in common. We really ought to be great friends." He was pausing to select the best of three replies when the lunch bugle sounded. "Oh, dear!" she cried. "I must rush. But we shall see one another again up here afterwards?" "We will," said Sam. "We'll sit and read Tennyson." "Fine! Er--you and I and Mortimer?" "Oh, no, Bream is going to sit down below and look after poor Pinky." "Does he--does he know he is?" "Not yet," said Billie. "I'm going to tell him at lunch." CHAPTER FOUR It was the fourth morning of the voyage. Of course, when this story is done in the movies they won't be satisfied with a bald statement like that; they will have a Spoken Title or a Cut-Back Sub-Caption or whatever they call the thing in the low dens where motion-picture scenario-lizards do their dark work, which will run:-- AND SO, CALM AND GOLDEN, THE DAYS WENT BY, EACH FRAUGHT WITH HOPE AND YOUTH AND SWEETNESS, LINKING TWO YOUNG HEARTS IN SILKEN FETTERS FORGED BY THE LAUGHING LOVE-GOD.