Chapter 25
THE SEA AGAINOnce more the swish of spray against the side of a ship, the
tang of salt, the lift and fall of the rail against the sea-line on
the horizon. And once more a girl, in white from neck to heel,
facing into the wind as if she loved it, her crisp skirts flying,
her hair blown back from her forehead in damp curls.
And I am not washing down the deck. With all the poise of white
flannels and a good cigar, I am lounging in a deck-chair, watching
her. Then—
"Come here!" I say.
"I am busy."
"You are not busy. You are disgracefully idle."
"Why do you want me?"
She comes closer, and looks down at me. She likes me to sit, so
she may look superior and scornful, this being impossible when one
looks up. When she has approached—
"Just to show that I can order you abo
