“Who is Billy Williams?” she asked.

“Billy,” said John, “is the very mild-mannered and gentlemanlike ‘bouncer’ at the Altman House, an ex-prize-fighter, and about the most accomplished member of his profession of his day and weight, who is employed to keep order and, if necessary, to thrust out the riotous who would disturb the contemplations of the lovers of art that frequent the bar of that hotel.”  It was to be seen that Miss Blake was not particularly impressed by this description of Billy and his functions, upon which she made no comment.

“You have not included in your list,” she remarked, “what you acquired in the down-town office you told me of.”

“No, upon my word I had forgotten that, and it’s about the only thing of use in the whole category,” he answered.  “If I were put to it, and could find a place, I think I might earn fifty dollars a month as a clerk or messenger, or something.  Hullo! here are your people.”

He went forward with his companion and greeted Mrs. Carling and her husband, who returned his “Good morning” with a feeble smile, and submitted to his ministrations in the matter of chair and rugs with an air of unresisting invalidism, which was almost too obvious, he thought.  But after luncheon John managed to induce him to walk for a while, to smoke a cigarette, and finally to brave the perils of a sherry and bitters before dinner.  The ladies had the afternoon to themselves.  John had no chance of a further visit with Mary during the day, a loss only partially made good to him by a very approving smile and a remark which she made to him at dinner, that he must be a lineal descendant of the Samaritan.  Mr. Carling submitted himself to him for the evening.  Indeed, it came about that for the rest of the voyage he had rather more of the company of that gentleman, who fairly attached himself to him, than, under all the circumstances, he cared for; but the gratitude of the ladies was so cordial that he felt paid for some sacrifices of his inclinations.  And there was an hour or so every morning—­for the fine weather lasted through—­which he spent with Mary Blake, with increasing interest and pleasure, and he found himself inwardly rejoicing over a mishap to the engine which, though of no very great magnitude, would retard the passage by a couple of days.

There can hardly be any conditions more favorable to the forming of acquaintanceships, friendships, and even more tender relations than are afforded by the life on board ship.  There is opportunity, propinquity, and the community of interest which breaks down the barriers of ordinary reserve.  These relations, to be sure, are not always of the most lasting character, and not infrequently are practically ended before the parties thereto are out of the custom-house officer’s hands and fade into nameless oblivion, unless one happens to run across the passenger list among one’s souvenirs.  But there are exceptions.  If at this time the question had been asked our friend,