“In my business?  Oh!”

“We outsiders have an idea that people in the theatrical line are a peculiar class unto themselves,” Lawford went on.

“But I——­” On the point of telling him of his mistake she hesitated.  He was unobservant of her amusement and went on with seriousness: 

“I guess I’m pretty green after all.  I don’t know much about the world—­your world, at least.  I love the sea, and sailing, and all the seashore has to offer.  Sometimes I’m out here alone all day long.”

“But what is it doing for you?” she asked him rather sharply.  “Surely there can be very little in it, when all’s said and done.  A man with your intelligence—­you have evidently had a good education.”

“I suppose I don’t properly appreciate that,” he admitted.

“And to really waste your time like this—­loafing longshore, and sailing boats, and—­and driving an automobile.  Why! you are a regular beach comber, Mr. Tapp.  It’s not much of an outlook for a man I should think.”

She suddenly stopped, realizing that she was showing more interest than the occasion called for.  Lawford was watching her with smoldering eyes.

“Don’t you think it is a nice way to live?” he asked.  “The sea is really wonderful.  I have learned more about sea and shore already than you can find in all the books.  Do you know where the gulls nest, and how they hatch their young?  Did you ever watch a starfish feeding?  Do you know what part of the shellfish is the scallop of commerce?  Do you know that every seventh wave is almost sure to be larger than its fellows?  Do you——­”

“Oh, it may be very delightful,” Louise interrupted this flow of badly catalogued information to say.  He expressed exactly her own desires.  Nothing could be pleasanter than spending the time, day after day, learning things “at first hand” about nature.  For her father—­and of course for her—­to do this was quite proper, Louise thought.  But not for this young fisherman, who should be making his way in the world.  “Where is it getting you?” she demanded.

“Getting me?”

“Yes,” she declared with vigor, yet coloring a little.  “A man should work.”

“But I’m not idle.”

“He should work to get ahead—­to save—­to make something of himself—­to establish himself in life—­to have a home.”

He smiled then and likewise colored.   “I--I------A man can’t do that
alone.   Especially the home-making part.”

“You don’t suppose any of these girls about here—­the nice girls, I mean—­want a man who is not a home provider?”

He laughed outright then.  “Some of them get that kind, I fear, Miss Grayling.  Mandy Card, for instance.”

“Are you planning to be another Milt Baker?” she responded with scorn.

“Oh, now, you’re hard on a fellow,” he complained.  “I’m always busy.  And, fixed as I am, I don’t see why I should grub and moil at unpleasant things.”