"Who said she turned me down?" he asked.
In spite of how he improved upon acquaintance, in spite of his friendliness, his nice smile and ways, he was very difficult to make out.
"You said the girl wouldn't be engaged to you——" I began patiently.
"I said nothing of the kind," Captain Holiday interrupted, contradicting me flatly. "I told you I was not engaged—here, it must have been that other turning after all, we'll go back—not engaged, but that I had asked a girl to marry me."
More at sea than before, I retraced my steps down the path beside him, and suggested:
"Then, if the girl said 'Yes' to you——"
"She," explained Captain Holiday, looking serenely over the evening landscape, "did not say either 'Yes' or 'No.'"
Now I saw his difficulty!
Suspense!
Yes. I understood that. How I understood the chills—and flames—of that fever! Hadn't I suffered from them myself, in the days when I had had to think in turn. "He will," "He won't," or "Will he?"