Jane said, in order to stave off the encroaching silence, "Nestir, how old are you?"
"Going on forty—Jane."
"The prime of life," the steward said.
"Ah," the captain said thoughtfully. "Leota...."
She looked up and soundlessly her mouth formed the words, "Too late."
The captain dropped the spoon to his plate.
Silence fell. It grew prolonged and uncomfortable. Finally the first mate said, "Hit hain't the right way to cook aigs, damn hit."
The captain said, "Father, I say. All the officers' wives have been asked."
"Yes," said Nestir. "They have, haven't they?"
"Do you suppose it would be all right if I just...."