"Because in a house you can at any time open the blamed door and walk
away straight before you."

"And never come back?"

"Not for sixteen years at least," he laughed. "To a rabbit hutch, and
get a confounded old shovel . . ."

"A ship is not so very big," she taunted.

"No, but the sea is great."

She dropped her head, and as if her ears had been opened to the voices
of the world, she heard, beyond the rampart of sea-wall, the swell
of yesterday's gale breaking on the beach with monotonous and solemn
vibrations, as if all the earth had been a tolling bell.

"And then, why, a ship's a ship. You love her and leave her; and a
voyage isn't a marriage." He quoted the sailor's saying lightly.

"It is not a marriage," she whispered.

"I never took a false name, and I've never yet told a lie to a woman.
What lie? Why, _the_ lie--. Take me or leave me, I say: and if you take
me, then it is . . ." He hummed a snatch very low, leaning against the
wall.

"Oh, ho, ho Rio!
And fare thee well,