Fate had mocked him long enough.

It was time, indeed, that he helped himself.
He swung away from the solitude to the other side of the steamer, paused in a sheltered spot while he lit a cigarette, and paced up and down the more frequented ways.

A soft voice from an invisible mass of furs and rugs, called to him.
"Mr.Romilly, please come and talk to me.

My rug has slipped--thank you so much.

Take this chair next mine for a few minutes, won't you?
Mr.
Greene has rushed off to the smoking room.