'I should not have thought you were so shy,' said Nan, with an honest laugh.
He flushed a little, and said—
'If you've lived most of your life on board ship, you may feel a little bit awkward; but mind,' he added with some eagerness, 'sometimes, not often (once in half a dozen years, maybe), you meet with a girl who is quite different from the others, quite different. You know it at once from her manner, and you can make friends with her with the greatest ease, simply because she is intelligent and quick in appreciation, and not affected in her ways, or stiff.'
This eager encomium passed upon an imaginary person struck Nan as being somewhat out of place; for the waltz had already begun, and she wanted to get back to her mamma: whereas this Lieutenant King seemed to wish to stand there and talk to her.
'Of course, that's special good luck for a sailor,' said he with a smile, 'to be able to make friends in a short time; for it's only a short time he has. Ashore to-day, and off to-morrow again; and what's worse, out of sight out of mind.'
'Oh, not always,' said Nan, cheerfully.
'Oh yes, it is,' he said; 'people on shore are too much concerned among themselves to think about the people away at sea. Why, you yourself now; after you leave this house to-night you will completely forget that there are such things as either ships or sailors until you come back here to another ball, and then the bunting will remind you.'
'Now there you are quite wrong,' said she firmly, 'for I see ships and sailors every day of my life.'
'Why, how is that?' he exclaimed with great interest.
'We live in Brighton,' said Nan simply, 'and I walk a good deal along the downs towards Newhaven, you know. The ships are a good way off, generally; still, you watch them, and you are interested in them.'