"I have a little—enough to get along with, I assure you. I've nothing to worry about—if I could only think of some way to show you my gratitude. Is there anything at all I can do for you?"
She shook her head.
"Are you sure?" he insisted. "I don't want to presume, of course, but—Are you all right here, and quite happy? What sort of ship is this, anyhow? And how—"
"Listen, Mr. Carthew," she broke in. "The only thing you can do for me is to forget all about me and the Olive Branch. And I'd be very grateful to you if you would promise—"
"Not to forget you," he said. "I couldn't. But—all the rest I promise."
"Thank you," she returned simply. "And now—"
"There's no hurry," he declared. "We're quite safe in here. And—I'm not going to leave you until you agree that, if I can ever be of any service to you, you will let me know at once."
"Very well," she agreed, to save time. "I'll do that."
"You know my name," he reminded her, and paused, frowning.
"But—that won't suit either," he said to himself reflectively, "for more than a few weeks. And I'll be at your orders all my life.