"Like a nigger," said Mr. Walters, with disappointing calmness.
He removed his eye from the window and, taking out his pipe, began to fill it from a small metal box. Rosa, compressing her lips, watched him with a sardonic smile.
"Got anything to do this evening?" she inquired.
"No," said the other.
"Well, I have," said Rosa, with a bright smile, "so I'll say good-evening."
Mr. Walters rose and, replacing a box of matches in his pocket, stood watching her with his mouth open.
"Don't hurry," she said, at last.
The boatswain sat down again.
"I mean when you get outside," explained the girl.
Mr. Walters gazed at her in slow perplexity, and then, breathing heavily, walked out of the kitchen like a man in a dream. His suspicions were aroused, and with an idea that a little blood-letting would give him relief, he wasted the entire evening lying in wait for a good-looking, gentlemanly young man with curly hair.