She idled with a book in her lap.
"On what ?" "On those who go, what costumes are worn, and how much beauty and art appear." "But the trouble! Does it pay?
What return does one get ?" "If all admire, half are envious, some are jealous, and one is devoted--isn't that enough ?" I think I was a fool that night.
"You seem to understand women," she said, with a puzzling and not quite satisfactory smile.

"Yes, all that is something." Though I was looking at the sea rather than at her, I saw again that inquiring look in her eyes--such a measuring look as a recruiting sergeant might give a victim of the Queen's shilling.
After a moment's pause she continued, I thought, abstractedly: "As what should you go ?" I answered lightly and without premeditation, "As Caius Cassius.

Why should you not appear as Portia ?" She lifted her eyebrows at me.
"As Portia ?" "As Portia, the wife of Brutus," I blundered on, at the same time receiving her permission, by a nod, to light my cigar.
"The pious, love-sick wife of Brutus!" This in a disdainful tone, and the white teeth clicked softly together.
"Yes, a good disguise," I said banteringly, though I fancy somewhat tentatively also, and certainly with a touch of rudeness.

I was thinking at that moment of the Intermediate Passenger, and I was curious.
"And you think of going in the disguise of a gentleman?
Caius Cassius was that, wasn't he ?" she retorted in an ironical tone.
"I suppose he was, though he was punished once for rudeness," I replied apologetically.
"Quite so," was the decisive reply.
I felt that she was perfectly cool, while I was a little confused, and ashamed too, that I had attempted to be playfully satirical.

And so, wondering what I should say next, I remarked in desperation: "Do you like the sea ?" "I am never ill at sea," was her reply.