"It's the only part of the ship where you can be reasonably sure of not meeting stout men in flannels and nautical caps. An ocean voyage always makes me wish that I had a private yacht." "It would be nice." "A private yacht," repeated Sam sliding a trifle closer. "We would sail about, visiting desert islands which lay like jewels in the heart of tropic seas." "We?" "Most certainly we. It wouldn't be any fun if you were not there." "That's very complimentary." "Well, it wouldn't. I'm not fond of girls as a rule...." "Oh, aren't you?" "No!" said Sam decidedly. It was a point which he wished to make clear at the outset. "Not at all fond. My friends have often remarked upon it. A palmist once told me that I had one of those rare spiritual natures which cannot be satisfied with substitutes but must seek and seek till they find their soul-mate. When other men all round me were frittering away their emotions in idle flirtations which did not touch their deeper natures, I was ... I was ... well, I wasn't, if you see what I mean." "Oh, you wasn't ... weren't--?" "No. Some day I knew I should meet the only girl I could possibly love, and then I would pour out upon her the stored-up devotion of a lifetime, lay an unblemished heart at her feet, fold her in my arms and say 'At last!'" "How jolly for her. Like having a circus all to oneself." "Well, yes," said Sam after a momentary pause. "When I was a child I always thought that that would be the most wonderful thing in the world." "The most wonderful thing in the world is love, a pure and consuming love, a love which...." "Oh, hello!" said a voice. All through this scene, right from the very beginning of it, Sam had not been able to rid himself of a feeling that there was something missing. The time and the place and the girl--they were all present and correct; nevertheless there was something missing, some familiar object which seemed to leave a gap. He now perceived that what had caused the feeling was the complete absence of Bream Mortimer. He was absent no longer. He was standing in front of them with one leg, his head lowered as if he were waiting for someone to scratch it. Sam's primary impulse was to offer him a nut. "Oh, hello, Bream!" said Billie. "Hullo!" said Sam. "Hullo!" said Bream Mortimer. "Here you are!" There was a pause. "I thought you might be here," said Bream. "Yes, here we are," said Billie. "Yes, we're here," said Sam. There was another pause. "Mind if I join you?" said Bream. "N-no," said Billie. "N-no," said Sam. "No," said Billie again. "No ... that is to say ... oh no, not at all." There was a third pause. "On second thoughts," said Bream, "I believe I'll take a stroll on the promenade deck, if you don't mind." They said they did not mind. Bream Mortimer, having bumped his head twice against overhanging steel ropes, melted away. "Who is that fellow?" demanded Sam wrathfully. "He's the son of father's best friend."