"In England, I was a shipping clerk," Kit rejoined.
Olivia noted his frankness. As a rule, the young men from the coal wharf and banana stores talked guardedly about their English occupations. Some had come for a warmer climate and some for fresh experience, but none admitted he had come for better pay. She helped Kit to pull the loop straight and he remarked that it did not look very firm.
"It will hold," she said. "In Grand Canary harness is mainly string. You are on board the correillo, are you not? I think I saw you land from the African boat."
Kit said he had joined the ship two weeks since, and Olivia wondered whether he was dull. He ought to have seen that her remembering his arrival was flattering, but he obviously did not.
"Well," she resumed, "what do you think about the correillo's officers?"
"I don't know yet. You see, one doesn't meet men like these at Liverpool. For one thing, Campeador generally sails an hour or two late. That's significant."
"In Spanish countries, punctuality is not a virtue and nobody is a slave to rules. We do what we like, when we like, and let people wait."
"Sometimes it must make things awkward," Kit remarked. "However, if you're satisfied about the harness, can I help you up?"
Olivia gave him a quick glance; it looked as if he were willing to let her go. He was dull, but his dullness was intriguing. In fact, since Olivia knew her charm, it was something of a challenge. She said she would walk across the maize field and signed Kit to lead the horse.
"I expect you'll make for the carretera," he said "Isn't it the easiest way to your side of the town?"