“You!” said de Vere in astonishment. “With a face and voice like yours! It is impossible!”
The boldness of the compliment held her speechless for a moment.
“I do,” she said; “my people lived just outside of Cohoes.”
“They couldn’t have,” he said passionately.
“I shouldn’t speak to you like this,” the girl went on, “but it’s because I feel from what you have said that you know and love America. And I think I can help you.”
“You mean,” he said, divining her idea, “that you can help me to meet a multimillionaire?”
“Yes,” she answered, still hesitating.
“You know one?”
“Yes,” still hesitating, “I know ONE.”
She seemed about to say more, her lips had already opened, when suddenly the dull raucous blast of the foghorn (they used a raucous one on this ship on purpose) cut the night air. Wet fog rolled in about them, wetting everything.