“I was quite a girl,” she went on presently. “Yes, it’s six years ago--and the first two days of that voyage were like days in heaven. You know what it can be when it’s fine? You seem never to have known what space was before--and bigness--and blueness. Do you know what I mean?” “It’s very exhilarating.” “Oh, don’t be silly! Of course nobody was ill--anyhow only the people who meant to be before they started--and we had an awfully jolly table.” “Mr Walsh one of your party?” “Yes, he was at our table. I--sat next to him.” I turned half round and looked at her. The moon was strong, I could see her eyes. “Look here, do you want to go on with this story?” I asked. “Yes, I think so--I’ve never told it before. But perhaps I’ll skip a little of it.” “At the beginning?” “Yes. Will you imagine the sun shining by day and the moon by night?” “Yes. And a sparkling sea? And nothing to do?” “Yes. And a young girl--quite a young girl.” “Yes. And beautiful hands--and the rest to match?” “Yes--including a voice.” “Yes. Let’s skip to the second evening, shall we, Mrs Pryce?” “Will you be a little more imaginative and skip to the third afternoon?” “The third afternoon be it. What’s happening when we begin the story again?” “I’m in my mother’s state-room, getting a tremendous lecture. I’m not sure you ought to hear it.” “Oh, I know all about it. You meant no harm, probably, but really it was time you learnt to be more careful. Attractive girls couldn’t be too careful. Men were so ready to think this and that--and say this and that--and then go and boast about it in the smoking-room. And what did you or your mother know about him? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! No doubt he was a gentleman, and very pleasant and amusing--but really you knew nothing. He was probably an adventurer. And anyhow--well, really it wasn’t quite--not _quite_--ladylike to--to----” “Yes, that’s not a bad imagination,” interrupted Mrs Pryce. “Add mamma’s pince-nez, and it’s quite life-like.” “And the result?” “Great constraint in my manner towards Mr Walsh at dinner that evening.” “And--further result--a melancholy walk by you on the deck after dinner--a walk at first solitary--subsequently shared by a puzzled and humble Mr Walsh?” “I begin to think you have more experience than you always admit,” said Mrs Pryce. “But I think you’ll go wrong if you try to guess any more.” “Then I won’t guess any more. Take up the thread. It’s now the third night out, and the moon is shining like that.” I pointed to the orb which was illuminating the Major’s garden--among other places where sundry of that liner’s former passengers might chance to be.