As he gazed and dreamed he became conscious of a presence near him, but he did not turn, for who was there upon that ship who might have access to this upper deck, whom he might care to see or speak with?
Presently he heard a voice at his elbow, a low, golden voice that brought him around facing its owner. It was the girl.
“You are looking back toward your own country?” she said.
“Yes.”
“You will never see it again,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice, as though she understood his feelings and sympathized.
“Perhaps not, but why should you care? I am an enemy.”
“I do not know why I should care,” replied the girl. “What is your name?”
“Tanar.”
“Is that all?”
“I am called Tanar the Fleet One.”