That amused her. “You weren’t really sorry, were you?”
“I really was. I thought of you–––”
“Do you mean to say you remembered me after the ship docked?”
“Yes. But I’m very sure you instantly forgot me.”
“I certainly did!” she admitted, still much amused at the idea. “One doesn’t remember everybody one sees, you know,” she went on frankly,“––particularly after a horrid voyage and when one’s head is full of exciting plans. Alas! those wonderful plans of mine!––the stuff that dreams are made of. And here I am asking you kindly to find me a modest house with a modest rental.... And by the way,” she added demurely, “my name is Palla Dumont.”
“Thank you,” he said smilingly. “Do you care to know mine?”
“I know it. When I came in and told the clerk what I wanted, he said I should see Mr. Shotwell.”
“James Shotwell, Jr.,” he said gravely.
“That is amiable. You don’t treasure malice, do you? I might merely have known you as Mr. Shotwell. And you generously reveal all from James to Junior.”