“But he won’t tell?”
“No, he won’t tell. The only way would be to take a chance on his talking in his sleep. But the trouble is,” she smiled dryly. “he never even snores—he sleeps like the Sphynxes.”
Jerome gave her a glance of amusement.
“No doubt,” continued Elsa, “they’ll turn up one of these days with some unbelievable adventure to relate.”
“I expect so.”
As they walked Elsa shaded her eyes with an arm from time to time, and gazed coolly off across the panorama which kept spreading new pictures. Occasionally a native with empty baskets would pass them, trudging back from the coast where beeswax and tobacco had been traded.
“If you’d like to come out this evening, you’ll find us at home,” the girl said as they approached the port.
“You’re staying on board?”
“We always do. It’s very comfortable. We have plenty of ice, and plenty of things to mix with it. You’d better come.”
“Thanks. I believe I will.”