Stodgy I may be,--it was odd how that term of Dunny's
rankled,--but I confess that I find chance traveling acquaintances
boring and avoid them when I can. Unlike most of my countrymen, I
suppose I am not gregarious, though I dine and week-end punctiliously,
send flowers and leave cards at decorous intervals, and know people all
the way from New York to Tokio.
My carefully limited baggage looked lonely in my cabin; I missed the
paraphernalia with which one usually begins a trip. Also, as I rummaged
through two bags to find the cap I wanted, I longed for Peters, my
faithful man, who could be backed to produce any desired thing at a
moment's notice. When bound for Flanders or the Vosges, however, one
must be a Spartan. I found what I sought at last and went on deck.
The scene, though cheerful, was not lacking in wartime features: A
row of life-boats hung invitingly ready; a gun, highly dramatic in
appearance, was mounted astern, with every air of meaning business
should the kaiser meddle with us en route. Down below, the Italians,
talking, gesticulating, showing their white teeth in flashing, boyish
smiles, were being herded docilely on board, while at intervals one or
another of the few promenade-deck passengers appeared.
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