"It will be some time before Andrew fixes your gaff, and there's no use in trying to hurry him," he said. "He's an artist in metal, and never lets up until he's satisfied with a job. So, as you must wait and we have a kettle on the forge below, I can offer you some tea and I'd like your opinion of the biscuit I've been baking for supper."
Evelyn felt doubtful. She was spending the afternoon in a way her mother would certainly not approve of, but she could not get ashore until the gaff was mended. Besides, it was pleasant to sit under the awning with the fresh sea breeze on her face and listen to the splash of the combers on the bows. Then she was interested in her companions. They were different from the rather vapid loungers she would have been talking to had she stayed at the hotel.
She let Walthew go and then turned to Grahame.
"Have you known your partner long?" she asked.
"No; I met him for the first time in New Orleans a few months ago."
"I asked because he's a type that I'm well acquainted with," Evelyn explained.
"And you would not have expected to find him cooking and cleaning engines on a boat like this?"
"No; they're rather unusual occupations for a conventionally brought up young American."
Grahame smiled.
"I understand that Walthew might have enjoyed all the comforts your civilization has to offer, but he preferred the sea. Perhaps I'm prejudiced, but I don't blame him. There's a charm in freedom and the wide horizon."