"Humph! your eyes must be better than mine then. I can't see anything in
here. It's darker than a nigger's pocket. Suppose we turn on the glim."
He struck a match as he said it. By its light he saw her face. The match
burned down to his finger tips and then he extinguished it.
"I don't know but the dark is just as good and more economical," he
observed. "No use of encouragin' the graspin' ile trust unless it's
necessary. Let's you and me sit here in the dark and talk. No objection
to talkin' to your back country relation, have you?"
"No."
"That's good. Well, Caroline, I'm goin' to talk plain again. You can
order me to close my hatch any time you feel like it; that's skipper's
privilege, and you're boss of this craft, you know. Dearie, I just met
Jim Pearson. He tells me he's decided not to go on this Cape cruise of
ours. He said you agreed with him 'twas best he shouldn't go. Do you
mind tellin' me why?"
She did not answer. He waited a minute and then continued.
"Course, I know I ain't got any real right to ask," he went on; "but I
think more of you and Jim than I do of anybody else, and so maybe you'll
excuse me. Have you and he had a fallin' out?"
Still she was silent. He sighed. "Well," he observed, "I see you have,
and I don't blame you for not wantin' to talk about it.
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