"I know," she said.
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away a little, staring at her.
"You!" he breathed incredulously. "You?"
She nodded, her eyes kindling.
"Here," he said hoarsely. "You must be straight with me, dear. Tell me what you know. The captain, he's very funny to-day."
"Ismir!" she called into his ear in a ringing tone. "Beautiful, beautiful Ismir!"
"What's that you're talking about?" he demanded doubtfully. "I don't understand."
"No? Soon you will understand, when we reach Ismir."
"I've never heard of it," he declared. "But I can tell you, if the Old Man don't alter the course, we're going straight into Smyrna."
"Ah, yes," she sighed. "I remember now. You call it that. We call it Ismir, Turkish place. When I was little, little girl, we arrive there, my fazzer and my muzzer. Oh, beautiful! The grand hotels, the bains, the plage, the quais, the mountains, the cafés-chantant. Aiee! And Bairakli! I will show you. I was little, thirteen years old." She laughed, a soft throaty chuckle, on his shoulder, at some reminiscence. "Ismir! Oh mein lieber Mann!"