She looked down at the deck, answering with a perceptible infusion of the bitter in her tone.
“I didn’t fix a time. I wasn’t sitting with my watch in my hand.”
“But I was.”
“Evidently.”
“Why didn’t you come down?”
“I came down as soon as I could.”
“What kept you?”
She raised her eyes for a fleeting glance—lowering them again. At the same time her voice sank, too, so that in the fury of sound about us she was no more than audible.
“The thing you told me.”
“And that kept you—in what way?”