And she answered, “I was never so honored in my life.”
“Of course,” he warned her, “the boat isn’t built yet. In fact, the new yard isn’t built yet. There’s many a slip ’twixt the keel and the ship. She might never live to be launched. Some of these sneaking loafers on our side may blow her up before the submarines get a chance at her.”
There he was, speaking of submarines once more! She shivered, and she looked at the clock and got up and said:
“I think I’ll try Mrs. Widdicombe now.”
“Let me go along,” said Davidge.
But she shook her head. “I’ve taken enough of your life––for the present.”
Trying to concoct a felicitous reply, he achieved only an eloquent silence. He put her and her luggage aboard a taxicab, and then she gave him her most cordial hand.
“I could never hope to thank you enough,” she said, “and I won’t begin to try. Send me your address when you have one, and I’ll mail you Mrs. Widdicombe’s confidential 118 telephone number. I do want to see you soon again, unless you’ve had enough of me for a lifetime.”
He did very handsomely by the lead she gave him:
“I couldn’t have enough––not in a lifetime.”