Hungerford approached me, apologising for the interruption.

He remarked that he was going on the bridge, and wished to say something to me before he went.

It was an official matter, to which Mrs.Falchion apparently did not listen.

When he was about to turn away, he bowed to her rather distantly; but she looked up at him and said, with an equivocal smile: "Mr.Hungerford, we often respect brave men whom we do not like." Then he, understanding her, but refusing to recognise the compliment, not altogether churlishly replied: "And I might say the same of women, Mrs.Falchion; but there are many women we dislike who are not brave." "I think I could recognise a brave man without seeing his bravery," she urged.
"But I am a blundering sailor," he rejoined, "who only believes his eyes." "You are young yet," she replied.
"I shall be older to-morrow," was his retort.
"Well, perhaps you will see better to-morrow," she rejoined, with indolent irony.
"If I do, I'll acknowledge it," he added.

Then Hungerford smiled at me inscrutably.