‘You’re to have No. 28 on the port side,’ said the steward. ‘A very good cabin, sir.’
‘I am afraid that I must insist. No. 17 was the cabin promised to me.’
We had come to an impasse. Each one of us was determined not to give way. Strictly speaking, I, at any rate, might have retired from the contest and eased matters by offering to accept Cabin 28. So long as I did not have 13 it was immaterial to me what other cabin I had. But my blood was up. I had not the least intention of being the first to give way.
And I disliked Chichester. He had false teeth that clicked when he ate. Many men have been hated for less.
I'm really enjoying this one. Anne Beddingfeld seems like a heroine that I wish Christie had written another story for.
I only hope that she doesn't do anything completely daft by the end of the book that would spoil my current image of her.