He smiled. "You haven't drifted very far yet—only as far as Mallett Harbour. That's usually the first port—for derelicts. Anchors are dropped rather frequently there—but, Rosalie, there's no safe mooring except in the home port."
Her pretty, flushed face grew very serious as she looked up questioningly.
"Isn't there an anchorage near you, Duane? Are you quite sure?"
"Why, no, dear, I'm not sure. But let me tell you something: it isn't in me to love again. And that isn't square to you."
After a silence she repeated: "Again? Have you been in love?"
"Yes."
"Are you embittered? I thought only callow fledglings moped."
"If I were embittered I'd offer free anchorage to all comers. That's the fledgling idea—when blighted—be a 'deevil among the weemin,'" he said, laughing.
"You have that hospitable reputation now," she persisted, unsmiling.
"Have I? Judge for yourself then—because no woman I ever knew cares anything for me now."