“I like to go fishing.”

“To see how many fish you can catch?”

“No, I like the woods and the weather.  I like to play a fish and work hard for him.  I like the pussy-willows and the cold; and the sky, whether it’s blue or grey—­night coming on, every thing about it.”

He spoke devoutly, and Kitty watched him through half-closed eyes.  “And you like to feel that there are light-minded girls like me, who only care about the inside of shops and theatres and hotels, eh?  You amuse me, you and your fish!  But I mustn’t keep you any longer.  Haven’t I given you every opportunity to state your case against me?  I thought you would have more to say for yourself.  Do you know, I believe it’s not a case you have at all, but a grudge.  I believe you are envious; that you’d like to be a tenor, and a perfect lady-killer!” She rose, smiling, and paused with her hand on the door of her stateroom.  “Anyhow, thank you for a pleasant evening.  And, by the way, dream of me tonight, and not of either of those ladies who sat beside you.  It does not matter much whom we live with in this world, but it matters a great deal whom we dream of.”  She noticed his bricky flush.  “You are very naive, after all, but, oh, so cautious!  You are naturally afraid of everything new, just as I naturally want to try everything:  new people, new religions—­new miseries, even.  If only there were more new things—­If only you were really new!  I might learn something.  I’m like the Queen of Sheba—­I’m not above learning.  But you, my friend, would be afraid to try a new shaving soap.  It isn’t gravitation that holds the world in place; it’s the lazy, obese cowardice of the people on it.  All the same”—­taking his hand and smiling encouragingly—­“I’m going to haunt you a little. Adios!”

When Kitty entered her state-room, Celine, in her dressing-gown, was nodding by the window.

“Mademoiselle found the fat gentleman interesting?” she asked.  “It is nearly one.”

“Negatively interesting.  His kind always say the same thing.  If I could find one really intelligent man who held his views, I should adopt them.”

“Monsieur did not look like an original,” murmured Celine, as she began to take down her lady’s hair.

* * * * *

McKann slept heavily, as usual, and the porter had to shake him in the morning.  He sat up in his berth, and, after composing his hair with his fingers, began to hunt about for his clothes.  As he put up the window-blind some bright object in the little hammock over his bed caught the sunlight and glittered.  He stared and picked up a delicately turned gold slipper.