her finger-tips touched his arm. She was looking shoreward, so that for
a moment he could see only the lustrous richness of her smooth hair.
Then she was meeting his eyes squarely, a flash of challenge in the gray
depths of her own.

"I am alone on the ship," she said. "I have no friends here. I want to
see things and ask questions. Will you ... help me a little?"

"You mean ... escort you?"

"Yes, if you will. I should feel more comfortable."

Nettled at first, the humor of the situation began to appeal to him, and
he wondered at the intense seriousness of the girl. She did not smile.
Her eyes were very steady and very businesslike, and at the same time
very lovely.

"The way you put it, I don't see how I can refuse," he said. "As for the
questions--probably Captain Rifle can answer them better than I."

"I don't like to trouble him," she replied. "He has much to think about.
And you are alone."

"Yes, quite alone. And with very little to think about."

"You know what I mean, Mr. Holt. Possibly you can not understand me, or
won't try. But I'm going into a new country, and I have a passionate
desire to learn as much about that country as I can before I get there.
I want to know about many things. For instance--"