"Good-morning, Mr. Dodd," said she, in the most easy, unembarrassed
way imaginable.
He stammered a "good-morning," and flushed with pleasure and
confusion.
He walked by her side in silence. She stole a look at him, and saw
that, after the first blush at meeting her, he was pale and haggard.
On this she dashed into singularly easy and cheerful conversation with
him; told him that this morning walk was her custom--"My substitute
for rouge, you know. I am always the first up in this languid house;
but I must not boast before you, who, I dare say, turn out--is not
that the word?--at daybreak. But, now I think of it, no! you would
have crossed my hawse before, Mr. Dodd," using naval phrases to
flatter him.
"It was my ill-luck; I always cruised a mile off. I had no idea this
bit of gravel was your quarter-deck."
"It is, though, because it is always dry. You would not like a
quarter-deck with that character, would you?"
"Oh yes, I should. I'd have my bowsprit always wet, and my
quarter-deck always dry. But it is no use wishing for what we cannot
have."
"That is very true," said Lucy, quietly.
David reflected on his own words, and sighed deeply.
This did not suit Lucy. She plied him with airy nothings, that no man
can arrest and impress on paper; but the tone and smile made them
pleasing, and then she asked his opinion of the other guests in such a
way as implied she took some interest in his opinion of them, but
mighty little in the people themselves.
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