Even as she asked, he realized that she was making an effort to talk his talk, and he resolved to get away from it and talk hers.
"It was just an accident," he said, putting his hand to his cheek.

"One night, in a calm, with a heavy sea running, the main-boom-lift carried away, an' next the tackle.

The lift was wire, an' it was threshin' around like a snake.

The whole watch was tryin' to grab it, an' I rushed in an' got swatted." "Oh," she said, this time with an accent of comprehension, though secretly his speech had been so much Greek to her and she was wondering what a _lift_ was and what _swatted_ meant.
"This man Swineburne," he began, attempting to put his plan into execution and pronouncing the i long.
"Who ?" "Swineburne," he repeated, with the same mispronunciation.

"The poet." "Swinburne," she corrected.
"Yes, that's the chap," he stammered, his cheeks hot again.