"Oh no—but I've done this trip before, and know how one w-wants a d-drink in the tropics."
He took the door in his hand and fumbled with the faulty catch as though he would shut it. Then he seemed to shake himself together inside his coat, which was very crumpled, as though he had been lying down inside it. "Look here," he said breathlessly and with an effort, "w-would you like some tea? I can get another c-cup from the steward."
"I would," she said frankly. "Do make some more. I've a cake in my box that's supposed to last me till I get to Australia. But I'll find it, and we'll have it now. I'm horribly hungry."
She went inside her cabin and drew out her trunk, which she had not yet unlocked. She heard him clearing up the broken cup, and then he tapped on her door.
"I can't open it—mine opens inwards, you see," she called. "And my trunk's in the way. What is it?"
"I—I—c-called you an idiot," came his voice, rather low and hesitating.
"So I was," she said bluntly, and heard him laugh.
"St-still—I needn't have mentioned it."
Then his steps grew faint along the alley-way. She sat back on her heels, frowning. She was wondering why he would not look at her, why he flushed and stammered when he spoke to her.
He was back in a few minutes, explaining that he had been to the cook's galley for boiling water to make tea. She had dragged her cabin trunk into the doorway, and laid upon it the tin in which her cake was packed, the two cups he brought with him and the teapot.