"All I can remember. How much do you want, anyhow?"
"Well, I don't like him."
"But why not?"
"I don't know. I suppose because you like him too well. I hardly see you any more."
Stainton assured his wife that no man or woman in the world was worth her little finger. He clambered into the upper berth and watched her for some time as her bared arm rose and fell, wielding the brush. At last the sight of that regular motion, added to the gentle rocking of the ship, closed his eyes. He had had a full day and was tired. He was soundly asleep when he was wakened by her embrace.
She was standing on the ladder and pressing his face to hers.
"Love me!" she was whispering. "O, Jim, love me!"
Stainton was still half-asleep,
"I do love you, Muriel," he said.
"Yes, but—Love me, Jim!" she whispered.