"As long as I don't look like a guy," she
remarked, negligently, and then caught the direction of his lurid stare
which as a matter of fact was fastened on her bare feet. She checked
herself, "Oh, yes, if you prefer it I will put on my stockings. But you
know I must be very careful of them. It's the only pair I have here. I
have washed them this morning in that bathroom which is built over the
stern. They are now drying over the rail just outside. Perhaps you will
be good enough to pass them to me when you go on deck."
Mr. Travers spun round and went on deck without a word. As soon as she
was alone Mrs. Travers pressed her hands to her temples, a gesture of
distress which relieved her by its sincerity. The measured footsteps of
two men came to her plainly from the deck, rhythmic and double with
a suggestion of tranquil and friendly intercourse. She distinguished
particularly the footfalls of the man whose life's orbit was most remote
from her own. And yet the orbits had cut! A few days ago she could
not have even conceived of his existence, and now he was the man whose
footsteps, it seemed to her, her ears could single unerringly in the
tramp of a crowd. It was, indeed, a fabulous thing. In the half light of
her over-heated shelter she let an irresolute, frightened smile pass off
her lips before she, too, went on deck.
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