“Search me,” said Hank.
“It’s a goddess,” said George, “same thing as Diana.”
Well, she had made him apologise, anyhow.
Candon alone took little part in the conversation. This gentleman, so ready in an emergency, seemed all abroad before the creature he had captured and carried off. He sat absorbing her without neglecting his food and later on when she was on deck he appeared with half an armful of books.
She was a book worm in private life and had hinted at the fact, out of which B. C. made profit.
“Here’s some books,” said he. “They aren’t much, but they’re all we’ve got. That chair comfortable?”
Then they fell into talk, Candon taking his seat beside her on the deck and close to the little heap of books.
They had scarcely spoken to one another at the breakfast table and now, all of a sudden, they were chattering together like magpies. Hank and George, smoking in the cabin down below, could hear their voices through the skylight.
“Wonder what she’d say if she knew,” said Hank in a grumbling tone.