She would look well so, I thought--better to my mind than she looked in the arms of her lover last night.

I fell into a train of profound meditation--a touch on my shoulder startled me.

I looked up, the captain of the brig stood beside me.

He smiled and held out a cigarette.
"The signor will smoke ?" he said courteously.
I accepted the little roll of fragrant Havanna half mechanically.
"Why do you call me signor ?" I inquired brusquely.

"I am a coral-fisher." The little man shrugged his shoulders and bowed deferentially, yet with the smile still dancing gayly in his eyes and dimpling his olive cheeks.
"Oh, certainly! As the signor pleases--ma--" And he ended with another expressive shrug and bow.
I looked at him fixedly.