"Martin Conrad, seaman, deceased."
The young clerk looked up quickly.
"Did you say Martin Conrad, ma'am?" he asked, and as well as I could for a click in my throat I answered:
"Yes."
He paused as if thinking; then with the same flourish as before he wrote that name also, and after he had done so, he twisted his face about to the old man, who was sitting behind him, and said, in a voice that was not meant to reach me:
"Extraordinary coincidence, isn't it?"
"Extraordinary!" said the old man, who had lowered his newspaper and was looking across at me over the rims of his spectacles.
"And now," said the young clerk, "your own name and your maiden name if you please."
"Mary O'Neill."
The young clerk looked up at me again. I was holding baby on my left arm and I could see that his eye caught my wedding ring.