“I think girls seem a good deal older than they are, don’t you?” she asked presently.
“Some girls,” Hinton agreed.
“How old would you take me for?”
“In the dark?”
“Yes.”
“About twelve.”
“Oh, that’s not fair,” said Guinevere. “I’m eighteen, and lots of people take me for twenty.”
“That is when they can see you,” said Hinton.
Guinevere decided that she did not like him. She leaned back in her corner and tried not to talk. But this course had its disadvantage, for when she was silent he seemed to forget she was there.
Once he took a turn up and down the deck, and when he came back, he stood for a long time leaning over the rail and gazing into the water. As he turned to sit down she heard him mutter to himself: