"My dear, the American women are so capable!" he said, and she threw him a smile which would have been regarded as impertinent—on English soil.
"Well, I'm sure I've no objections to being an American woman myself," she said.
"And you do not mind the loneliness of the trip you're taking?" the mother put in hastily, as if to cover her daughter's remark.
"I didn't—until to-day."
"But we must see to it now that you're not too lonely," she hastened to assure me. "Where have they put you in the dining-room, my dear?"
I mentioned my table's location.
"Oh, but we'll get the steward to change you at once!" they chorused, when it had been pointed out to them that my position in the salon was isolated and far away from the music of the orchestra.
"We're just next the captain's table," Hilda explained. "We happened to know him and——"
"And it's inspiring to watch the liberties he takes with the menu," the father said. "I'd best write down our number, though I'll see the steward myself."
From his pocketbook he produced a card, scribbling their table number upon the back and handing it to me.