Smudgy-faced members of the crew appeared here and there, the sort that the passengers ordinarily never see on voyage; cooks, vegetable carriers and knife boys called across barriers to one another; and off in the distance an officer could be observed coatless and heavily suspendered.
“Why aren’t you going on shore?” she asked suddenly.
“I?” he parried. “Not interested.”
“Not interested in Naples and Pompeii?” she inquired incredulously. “Oh, you’ve been there before, I see.”
“No; I’ve never been there. I—uh—just prefer to—uh—stay here.... I like to be alone.”
“Thank you!” cheerily.
She looked at him expectantly.
He took some time before he said serenely, “I can’t say it.”
“What?” But she knew what.
“The obvious complimentary thing. A woman does that with amazing skill,” he mused. “She directs a conversation into a position where the man must make her a pretty speech. Oh, it’s all right; but it interferes shockingly.”