"
The mate sighed. He was thinking that under some conditions there were
worse things than stuffy cabins.
"And Nancy's so discontented," said the mother, looking at the girl who
was reading quietly by her side. "She doesn't like ships or sailors. She
gets her head turned reading those penny novelettes."
"You look after your own head," said Nancy elegantly, without looking
up.
"Girls in those novels don't talk to their mothers like that," said the
elder woman severely.
"They have different sorts of mothers," said Nancy, serenely turning
over a page. "I hate little pokey ships and sailors smelling of tar. I
never saw a sailor I liked yet."
The mate's face fell. "There's sailors and sailors," he suggested
humbly.
"It's no good talking to her," said the mother, with a look of fat
resignation on her face, "we can only let her go her own way; if you
talked to her twenty-four hours right off it wouldn't do her any good."
"I'd like to try," said the mate, plucking up spirit.
"Would you?" said the girl, for the first time raising her head and
looking him full in the face. "Impudence!"
"Perhaps you haven't seen many ships," said the impressionable mate, his
eyes devouring her face. "Would you like to come and have a look at our
cabin?"
"No, thanks!" said the girl sharply.
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