Jerome, of course, noticed that to the man across the counter ships were sexless objects, and that he spoke of chartering a vessel exactly as a real estate man might speak of letting or acquiring a piece of property. Yet, oddly enough, all this seemed but adding to his charm.
“To tell the truth,” confessed the glittering stranger, removing his hat and disclosing a black toupee which contrasted a little queerly with a greying fringe lower down, “I’ve not more than the remotest idea what you stock up with.”
“For the galley?” asked Jerome, desiring to be nautical, yet at the same time wishing to avoid an appearance of self-consciousness which he always more or less felt when he spoke of the sea or the things of the sea.
“That’s it!”
“But couldn’t all such be left to the steward, sir?”
“The steward?” For a moment the warm black eyes appeared a trifle blank. “Well, now I suppose so. Lord, yes, I suppose the steward would take all such loads off my mind. But you see,” he leaned across in a perplexed way, speaking very confidentially indeed, “the fact is I haven’t got any steward yet.”
“No steward, sir?”
“Well, no, I haven’t yet,” the other apologized. And then he broadened the confidence, his eyes petitioning and not a little wistful: “You see the fact is I haven’t got any crew at all yet.” His face relaxed into a smile of singular sweetness. “Lord, what a busy life! It seems to me as though I never more than get started!”
“The trouble is, sir,” said Jerome, “we deal only in ship’s hardware here.”