"Of course!" said Anthea slowly. "In any case, as you mentioned, it would be out of the question. But how——"
Jordan checked her, with a smile this time. "How do I understand? I don't think I do altogether; I only guess. A man who lived alone at sea or on a ranch in the shadowy bush might be capable of an attachment of that kind, but not one who makes his living in the cities. One can't get away from the material point of view there."
He broke off, and sat still for a minute or two, for though it was clear that Anthea had no wish to discuss that topic further, he felt that she had something to say to him.
"Mr. Jordan," she asked at last, "have you had any news about the Shasta?"
Jordan's face clouded, but he did not turn in her direction, for which the girl was grateful.
"No," he said, "I have none. As perhaps you know, she should have turned up two or three weeks ago."
It was a moment or two before he glanced around, and then Anthea met his gaze, in which, however, there was no trace of inquiry.
"You are anxious about her?" she asked.
"I am, a little. It is a wild coast up yonder, and they have wilder weather. The charts don't tell you very much about those narrow seas. One must trust to good fortune and one's nerve when the fog shuts down. That," and he smiled reassuringly, "was why I sent Jimmy."
Anthea felt her face grow warm, but she looked at him steadily.