“And one doesn't mind questions, does one--from real people?” he continued. “I'm going to ask you lots more, and you may ask me as many as you like. I never talk to people unless they are worth talking to, and then I talk hard. Will you begin, or shall I? I have at least two hundred things to ask.” “It is my turn, though, I think.” She accepted him on his own ground, with an open and natural friendliness. “I have only one at the moment, which is, 'Why haven't we talked before?'” and she glanced with a quiet humorousness at the few unpromising samples of the second cabin who obstructed the windward deck. “Oh, good for you!” he applauded, “aren't they loathly!” “Oh, no, all right, only not stimulating--” “And we are,” he finished for her, “so that, obviously, your question has only one answer. We haven't talked before because I haven't seen you before, and I haven't seen you because I have been growling in my cabin--voilà tout!” “Oh, never growl--it's such a waste of time,” she answered. “You'll see, the second cabin isn't bad.” “It certainly isn't, _now_,” rejoiced Stefan. “My turn for a question. Have you relatives, or are you, like myself, alone in the world?” “Quite alone,” said Mary, “except for a married sister, who hardly counts, as she's years older than I, and fearfully preoccupied with husband, houses, and things.” She paused, then added, “She hasn't any babies, or I might have stayed to look after them, but she has lots of money and 'position to keep up,' and so forth.” “I see her,” said Stefan. “Obviously, she takes after the _other_ parent. You are alone then. Next question--” “Oh, isn't it my turn again?” Mary interposed, smilingly. “It is, but I ask you to waive it. You see, questions about _me_ are so comparatively trivial. What sort of work do you do?” “Well, I write a little,” she replied, “and I've been a governess and a companion. But I'm really a victim of the English method of educating girls. That's my chief profession--being a monument to its inefficiency,” and she laughed, low and bell-like. “Tell me about that--I've never lived in England,” he questioned, with eager interest. (“And oh, Pan and Apollo, her voice!” he thought.) “Well,” she continued, “they bring us up so nicely that we can't do anything--except _be_ nice. I was brought up in a cathedral town, right in the Close, and my dear old Dad, who was a doctor, attended the Bishop, the Dean, and all the Chapter. Mother would not let us go to boarding-school, for fear of 'influences'--so we had governesses at home, who taught us nothing we didn't choose to learn. My sister Isobel married 'well,' as they say, while I was still in the schoolroom. Her husband belongs to the county--” “What's that?” interrupted Stefan.