The Make-Believe Man | Page 7

purchased a box of cigars of a quality more
expensive than those he can usually afford. He was smoking one of
them at the moment, and, as it grew less, had been carefully moving the
gold band with which it was encircled from the lighted end. But as he
spoke he regarded it apparently with distaste, and then dropped it
overboard.
"Keep my chair," he said, rising. "I am going to my cabin to get my
pipe." I sat down and fastened my eyes upon my book; but neither did I
understand what I was reading nor see the printed page. Instead, before

my eyes, confusing and blinding me, was the lovely, radiant face of the
beautiful lady. In perplexity I looked up, and found her standing not
two feet from me. Something pulled me out of my chair. Something
made me move it toward her. I lifted my hat and backed away. But the
eyes of the lovely lady halted me.
To my perplexity, her face expressed both surprise and pleasure. It was
as though either she thought she knew me, or that I reminded her of
some man she did know. Were the latter the case, he must have been a
friend, for the way in which she looked at me was kind. And there was,
besides, the expression of surprise and as though something she saw
pleased her. Maybe it was the quickness with which I had offered my
chair. Still looking at me, she pointed to one of the sky-scrapers.
"Could you tell me," she asked, "the name of that building?" Had her
question not proved it, her voice would have told me not only that she
was a stranger, but that she was Irish. It was particularly soft, low, and
vibrant. It made the commonplace question she asked sound as though
she had sung it. I told her the name of the building, and that farther
uptown, as she would see when we moved into midstream, there was
another still taller. She listened, regarding me brightly, as though
interested; but before her I was embarrassed, and, fearing I intruded, I
again made a movement to go away. With another question she stopped
me. I could see no reason for her doing so, but it was almost as though
she had asked the question only to detain me.
"What is that odd boat," she said, "pumping water into the river?"
I explained that it was a fire-boat testing her hose-lines, and then as we
moved into the channel I gained courage, and found myself pointing
out the Statue of Liberty, Governors Island, and the Brooklyn Bridge.
The fact that it was a stranger who was talking did not seem to disturb
her. I cannot tell how she conveyed the idea, but I soon felt that she felt,
no matter what unconventional thing she chose to do, people would not
be rude, or misunderstand.
I considered telling her my name. At first it seemed that that would be
more polite. Then I saw to do so would be forcing myself upon her, that
she was interested in me only as a guide to New York Harbor.
When we passed the Brooklyn Navy Yard I talked so much and so
eagerly of the battle-ships at anchor there that the lady must have
thought I had followed the sea, for she asked: "Are you a sailorman?"

It was the first question that was in any way personal.
"I used to sail a catboat," I said.
My answer seemed to puzzle her, and she frowned. Then she laughed
delightedly, like one having made a discovery.
"You don't say 'sailorman,'" she said. "What do you ask, over here,
when you want to know if a man is in the navy?"
She spoke as though we were talking a different language.
"We ask if he is in the navy," I answered.
She laughed again at that, quite as though I had said something clever.
"And you are not?"
"No," I said, "I am in Joyce & Carboy's office. I am a stenographer."
Again my answer seemed both to puzzle and to surprise her. She
regarded me doubtfully. I could see that she thought, for some reason, I
was misleading her.
"In an office?" she repeated. Then, as though she had caught me, she
said: "How do you keep so fit?" She asked the question directly, as a
man would have asked it, and as she spoke I was conscious that her
eyes were measuring me and my shoulders, as though she were
wondering to what weight I could strip.
"It's only lately I've worked in an office," I said. "Before that I always
worked out-of-doors; oystering and clamming and, in the fall,
scalloping. And in the summer I played ball on a hotel nine."