"It depends what you were going to say."

Miss Cahere laughed, and made no reply. Her laugh and a glance seemed,
however, to convey the comfortable assurance that whatever she had been
about to say would not have been applicable to Cartoner himself. She
glanced at his trim, upright figure.

"I think I prefer soldiers," she said, thoughtfully.

Cartoner murmured something inaudible, and continued to gaze at the ship
he had been told to look at.

"Did you know my uncle before you came on board, or were you brave
enough to force him to speak? He is so silent, you know, that most
people are afraid of him. I suppose you had met him before."

"No. It was a mere accident. We were neither of us ill. We were both
hungry, and hurried down to a meal. And the stewards placed us next to
each other."

Which was a long explanation, without much information in it.

"Oh, I thought perhaps you were in the diplomatic service," said Miss
Cahere, carelessly.

For an instant Cartoner's eyes lost all their vagueness. Either Miss
Cahere had hit the mark with her second shot, or else he was making a
mental note of the fact that Mr. Mangles belonged to that amiable body
of amateurs, the American Diplomatic Corps.