“No, sir.”
“Why not?” said Jarman mechanically.
The girl sidled up against the cabin, keeping her eyes fixed on Jarman with a certain youthful shrewdness.
“Oh, you know!” she said.
“I really do not. Tell me why.”
She drew herself up against the wall a little proudly, though still youthfully, with her hands behind her.
“I ain't that kind of girl,” she said simply.
The blood rushed to Jarman's checks. Dissipated and abandoned as his life had been, small respecter of women as he was, he was shocked and shamed. Knowing too, as he did, how absorbed he was in other things, he was indignant, because not guilty.
“Do as you please, then,” he said shortly, and reentered the cabin. But the next moment he saw his error in betraying an irritation that was open to misconstruction. He came out again, scarcely looking at the girl, who was lounging away.
“Do you want me to explain to you how the thing works?” he said indifferently. “I can't show you unless a ship comes in.”