“I mean to try to,” she said quietly. “I haven’t any home, really—no parents and only distant family connections. In fact, all I do possess is a little income and an immense desire to work.”
“You’re meaning to look for an engagement, then?”
“I must.”
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully, “I might help you a bit; I know some of the managers pretty well ...”
“Thank you. I meant to ask you, but hoped you’d offer.” She laughed a trifle shyly. “I presume that’s a bold, forward confession to make, but I’ve been so long abroad I don’t know my way round at home, anymore.”
“That’s all right,” said Staff, liking her candour. “Where shall you be? Where can I find you?”
“I hardly know—for a day or two at some hotel, and as soon as possible in a small studio, if I can find one to sublet.”
“Tell you what you do,” he suggested: “drop me a line at the Players, letting me know when and where you settle.”
“Thank you,” she said, “I shall.”
He was silent for a little, musing, his gaze wandering far over the placid reaches of the night-wrapped ocean. “Funny little world, this,” he said, rousing: “I mean, the ship. Here we are today, some several hundreds of us, all knit together by an intricate network of interests, aims, ambitions and affections that seem as strong and inescapable as the warp and woof of Life itself; and yet tomorrow—we land, we separate on our various ways, and the network vanishes like a dew-gemmed spider’s web before the sun.”