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astonishment that the doctor was actually the taller. Yet the Corey man must be at least six feet.
    “Casualty?” asked Bill Norton. “Sit here, old chap. What happened?”
    It was Kristin who replied, in quick troubled accents. “We were strolling and a child’s ball flew from somewhere and smashed Vernon’s sunglasses. He says he can’t feel even the smallest glass splinter in his eye, but I felt we had to make sure.”
    “Yes, of course. Sit down, Mrs. ... it’s Fenley, isn’t it? I dare say you and Miss Fenley here have already met, seeing that you share a surname.”
    Kristin said evenly, barely glancing at Pat, “Oh, is your name Fenley? I thought it was Fenlake.”
    Bill already had the Australian seated under a light with his head back. He gave the eye a close examination, touched the cuts with iodine and said:
    “It’s unlikely that you have glass in your eye, Mr. Corey—good sunglass lenses don’t normally flake or splinter and there’s not the smallest speck of blood—but we’ll take precautions. Miss Fenley, take this key and open the cabinet. At the back of the top shelf you’ll find a green bottle and in the lower drawer an eye dropper.” While Pat produced the medicaments, Bill washed his hands at the basin in the corner. He dropped a spot of liquid into each of the big man’s eyes, pressed pads of lint over them and placed a bandage in Pat’s hands.
    “Secure them,” he said, for all the world as if she were a ship’s nurse. “You’ll have to be led back to your stateroom, Mr. Corey. Lie down for an hour to let the oil work. If there’s a splinter about you’ll probably lose it when you blink. See me again if there’s the slightest discomfort.”
    Vernon Corey spoke for the first time, in a rather slow drawl. “Thanks, Doc. I have to stay blind for an hour—is that right?”
    “I’ll sit with you, darling,” Kristin said tenderly. “Is that all, Doctor?”
    “For the records,” said Bill, “I shall need a few particulars, but I do have the name and stateroom number, and the rest can be added later. Like a steward to help you?”
    “Oh.no. Vernon would rather trust me. Thank you so much, Dr. Norton.”
    “A pleasure,” said Bill, and by the way he looked at her he meant it.
    But then the man who couldn’t kindle a fraction at the sight of a slim and quite beautiful woman in black patio pants and a pale blue crew-neck sweater would need to have his reflexes tested. With a funny little ache in her chest, Pat watched her youthful-looking stepmother move out into the corridor with the big man’s arm about her shoulder. She would have followed them, but Bill let the door swing to.
    “Two stunners in one morning is a bit much for me,” he remarked. “This one has more about her than the Markman girl, but I don’t think she much cared for your having the same name.”
    Carefully, Pat said, “It’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”
    “On my first trip we had two unconnected couples named Vincent. It probably happens oftener than you’d think.” He studied her face detachedly. “You’re a better colour. Take your lunch dry and you’ll be fighting fit for the rest of the voyage.”
    Pat nodded, and reached to open the door. He did the same and got there first, but their arms touched and for a second his shoulder was close behind hers. It was the sort of contact which had happened to her many times, but never before had she known a sharp electric thrust of pleasure ... and pain, in a man’s nearness. It was because she was unhappy, she told herself swiftly. But as she looked up, momentarily, and caught a faintly mocking gleam in the doctor’s eyes, her heart floundered in fright. She was halfway along the wide corridor before her breathing returned to normal.
    It rained heavily and blew half a gale before they were through the Bay of Biscay and into calmer, warmer waters. Then the Walhara settled into a routine enjoyment of gloriously hot days and balmy nights, with a