When he came back presently she was visibly more at ease with her frills about her neck. She raised herself on her left elbow, and he placed the tin pannikin of soup in front of her, together with some broken biscuit.
"Can you feed yourself?" he asked.
"Oh, yes—if I had a spoon."
"I am sorry to say we have no spoons."
"No spoons?" and she stared at him in vast surprise.
"Perhaps you can make shift to drink it out of the pannikin. You see——"
"What a very odd ship—to have no spoons!" she took a sip of the soup and screwed up her lips. "Would you get me some salt, if you please? This soup——"
"I'm sorry, but we have no salt either. You see——"
"No salt?" and she shot another quick amazed look at him. "Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" at which Wulfrey pricked up his ears. "Whatever kind of a ship—you did say a ship, did you not? Where is it going to?"
"It's not going anywhere. You see, it's practically a stranded ship though it's really afloat——"