"I live in Newport, miss," he said.
"Oh!" That was all, and the curious little smile did not leave her face. But Armitage noticed that in some way the steward found no further opportunity for exercising his garrulity.
Evidently she assumed that Armitage now knew whom she was, if he had not known before the steward uttered her name, for he noticed a slight modifying of her previous attitude of thorough enjoyment. For his part, Armitage of course had no reason for altering his bearing, and that he did not was observed and appreciated by his companion. This eventually had the effect of restoring both to their former footing.
"Yes," she said finally, "it has been rather a novel experience. I am indebted to you."
"Not to me," said Armitage. Then, by way of conversation, "novel experiences, as a rule, are not so easily had."
"No, I grasp them whenever," she jerked her head toward the cabin above and smiled, "whenever I can, conveniently. My old tutor in Munich was always impressing it upon me never to neglect such opportunities."
"Opportunities? Oh, I see—slumming." Armitage glanced about the apartment and laughed.
She frowned.
"I was speaking categorically, not specifically; at least I meant to. I did not mean slumming; I detest it. 'Seine erfahrungen erweitern'—enlarging one's experience—is the way my teacher put it. Life is so well-ordered with us. There are many well-defined things to do—any number of them. The trouble is, they are all so well defined. We glide along and take our switches, as father would say, like so many trains." She smiled. "And so I love to run off the track once in a while."
"May I have the credit of having misplaced the switch?" Armitage's eyes were twinkling as the girl arose with a nod.