His left hand touched the belt on her coat. Her body moved suddenly pressing against his. The next moment his arms were round her and he was kissing her.
When his arms grew tired, she leaned back, half against him, half against the rail.
“Do you feel better, chéri?”
“Yes, I feel better.”
“Then I will have a cigarette.”
He gave her the cigarette and she looked at him across the light of the match. “Are you thinking of this lady in England who is your wife?”
“No.”
“But you will think of her?”
“If you keep talking about her I shall have to think about her.”
“I see. For you I am part of the journey from Istanbul to London. Like Mr. Kuvetli.”