The possibility that he could be mistaken never occurred to him. He would not drop a subject till he had brought you round to his way of thinking. He knew everything better than anybody else and you couldn't disagree with him. But it was at meal times that he was most intolerable. He was certainly the best-hated man in the ship. He conducted the auctions, collected money for prizes at the sports, organized the concert and arranged the fancy-dress ball. Kelada was a good mixer, and in three days knew everyone on board. In your own house you might have kicked him downstairs and slammed the door in his face. He was certain that you were as glad to see him as he was glad to see you. It never occurred to him that he was not wanted. I not only shared a cabin with him and ate three meals a day at the same table, but I couldn't walk round the deck without his joining me. Though I was a total stranger to him he used no such formality as to put mister before my name when he addressed me. He discussed plays, pictures and politics. He talked of New York and of San Francisco. And though he introduced himself as an Englishman I felt sure that he was born under a bluer sky than is generally seen in England. He was short and of a sturdy build, cleanshaven and dark-skinned, with a hooked nose and very large liquid eyes. Once I was going by ship from San-Francisco to Yokohama.
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