“And it’s only two-thirds empty,” she declared.  “Ward, why will you be such a boy?”

“Oh, well,” he grumbled, and without more ado drank off the balance.

“Now I’ll read to you if you have everything you want.  Adler, I think you can open one of those windows; it’s so warm out of doors.”

While he ate his breakfast of toast, milk, and eggs Lloyd skimmed through the paper, reading aloud everything she thought would be of interest to him.  Then, after a moment, her eye was caught and held by a half-column article expanded from an Associated Press despatch.

“Oh!” she cried, “listen to this!” and continued:  “’Word has been received at this place of the safe arrival of the arctic steamship Curlew at Tasiusak, on the Greenland coast, bearing eighteen members of the Duane-Parsons expedition.  Captain Duane reports all well and an uneventful voyage.  It is his intention to pass the winter at Tasiusak, collecting dogs and also Esquimau sledges, which he believes superior to European manufacture for work in rubble-ice, and to push on with the Curlew in the spring as soon as Smith Sound shall be navigable.  This may be later than Captain Duane supposes, as the whalers who have been working in the sound during the past months bring back news of an unusually early winter and extraordinary quantities of pack-ice both in the sound itself and in Kane Basin.  This means a proportionately late open season next year, and the Curlew’s departure from Tasiusak may be considerably later than anticipated.  It is considered by the best arctic experts an unfortunate circumstance that Captain Duane elected to winter south of Cape Sabine, as the condition of the ice in Smith Sound can never be relied upon nor foretold.  Should the entrance to the sound still be encumbered with ice as late as July, which is by no means impossible, Captain Duane will be obliged to spend another winter at Tasiusak or Upernvick, consuming alike his store of provisions and the patience of his men.’”

There was a silence when Lloyd finished reading.  Bennett chipped at the end of his second egg.

“Well?” she said at length.

“Well,” returned Bennett, “what’s all that to me?”

“It’s your work,” she answered almost vehemently.

“No, indeed.  It’s Duane’s work.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let him try now.”

“And you?” exclaimed Lloyd, looking intently at him.

“My dear girl, I had my chance and failed.  Now—­” he raised a shoulder indifferently—­“now, I don’t care much about it.  I’ve lost interest.”

“I don’t believe you,” she cried energetically; “you of all men.”  Behind Bennett’s chair she had a momentary glimpse of Adler, who had tucked his tray under his arm and was silently applauding in elaborate pantomime.  She saw his lips form the words “That’s it; that’s right.  Go right ahead.”

“Besides, I have my book to do, and, besides that, I’m an invalid—­an invalid who drinks slop.”