“There is not enough refrigerator space,” said Charley.  One of the deck-hands whirled round instantly; but stolidity sat like adamant upon the faces of the others as Charley turned in their direction, and we continued our tour of the Hermana.  Thus the little banker let me see his little soul, deep down; and there I saw that to pass for a real yachtsman—­which he would never be able to do—­was dearer to his pride than to bring off successfully some huge and delicate matter in the world’s finance—­which he could always do supremely well.  “I’m just like that, too,” I thought to myself; and we returned to the gay Kitty.

But Kitty, despite her gayety, had serious thoughts upon her mind.  Charley’s attentions to me had met all that politeness required, and as we went aft again, his sister caused certain movements and rearrangements to happen with chairs and people.  I didn’t know this at once, but I knew it when I found myself somehow sitting with her and John, and saw Hortense with Charley.  Hortense looked over at Kitty with a something that had in it both raised eyebrows and a shrug, though these visible signs did not occur; and, indeed, so far as anything visible went (except the look) you might have supposed that now Hortense had no thoughts for any man in the world save Charley.  And John was plainly more at ease with Kitty!  He began to make himself agreeable, so that once or twice she gave him a glance of surprise.  There was nothing to mark him out from the others, except his paleness in the midst of their redness.  Yachting clothes bring out wonderfully how much you are in the habit of eating and drinking; and an innocent stranger might have supposed that the Replacers were richly sunburned from exposure to the blazing waters of Cuba and the tropics.  Kitty deemed it suitable to extol Kings Port to John.  “Quaint” was the word that did most of this work for her; she found everything that, even the negroes; and when she had come to the end of it, she supposed the inside must be just as “quaint” as the outside.

“It is,” said John Mayrant.  He was enjoying Kitty.  Then he became impertinent.  “You ought to see it.”

“Do you stay inside much?” said Kitty.

“We all do,” said John.  “Some of us never come out.”

“But you came out?” Kitty suggested.

“Oh, I’ve been out,” John returned.  He was getting older.  I doubt if the past few years of his life had matured him as much as had the past few days.  Then he looked at Kitty in the eyes.  “And I’d always come out—­if Romance rang the bell.”

“Hm!” said Kitty.  “Then you know that ring?”

“We begin to hear it early in Kings Port,” remarked John.  “About the age of fourteen.”

Kitty looked at him with an interest that now plainly revealed curiosity also.  It occurred to me that he could not have found any great embarrassment in getting on at Newport.  “What if I rang the bell myself?” explained Kitty.