s of decision, I thought. And at that turned to some rope
or block and pursued her questioning. She found the compass
impressive, and the trappings of that hateful centre-board had a
peculiar fascination for her. Was this the way we did it in England?
was her constant query.

Yet, in spite of a superficial freedom, we were all shy and
constrained. The descent below was a welcome diversion, for we should
have been less than human if we had not extracted some spontaneous
fun from the humours of the saloon. I went down first to see about
the tea, leaving them struggling for mutual comprehension over the
theory of an English lifeboat. They soon followed, and I can see her
now stooping in at the doorway, treading delicately, like a kitten,
past the obstructive centre-board to a place on the starboard sofa,
then taking in her surroundings with a timid rapture that broke into
delight at all the primitive arrangements and dingy amenities of our
den. She explored the cavernous recesses of the Rippingille, fingered
the duck-guns and the miscellany in the racks, and peeped into the
fo'c'sle with dainty awe. Everything was a source of merriment, from
our cramped attitudes to the painful deficiency of spoons and the
'yachtiness' (there is no other word to describe it) of the bread,
which had been bought at Bensersiel, and had suffered from
incarceration and the climate. This fact came out, and led to some
questions, while we waited for the water to boil, about the gale and
our visit there. The topic, a pregnant one for us, appeared to have
no special significance to her. At the mention of von Bruening she
showed no emotion of any sort; on the contrary, she went out of her
way, from an innocent motive that anyone could have guessed, to show
that she could talk about him with dispassionate detachment.

'He came to see us when you were here last, didn't he?' she said to
Davies. 'He often comes. He goes with father to Memmert sometimes.
You know about Memmert? They are diving for money out of an old
wreck.'

Yes, we had heard about it.

'Of course you have. Father is a director of the company, and
Commander von Bruening takes great interest in it; they took me down
in a diving-bell once.'

I murmured, 'Indeed!' and Davies sawed laboriously at the bread. She
must have misconstrued our sheepish silence, for she stopped and drew
herself up with just a touch of momentary hauteur, utterly lost on
Davies. I could have laughed aloud at