“A woman?”
Andrews nodded.
“But it's not so bad, this life on the barge. I'm just lonesome and sick of the old people. That's why I talk nastily about it.... We could have good times together if you stayed with us a little.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder and put a hand awkwardly on his bare forearm.
“How cold these Americans are!” she muttered, giggling drowsily.
Andrews felt her hair tickle his cheek.
“No, it's not a bad life on the barge, honestly. The only thing is, there's nothing but old people on the river. It isn't life to be always with old people.... I want to have a good time.”
She pressed her cheek against his. He could feel her breath heavy in his face.
“After all, it's lovely in summer to drowse on the deck that's all warm with the sun, and see the trees and the fields and the little houses slipping by on either side.... If there weren't so many old people.... All the boys go away to the cities.... I hate old people; they're so dirty and slow. We mustn't waste our youth, must we?”
Andrews got to his feet.