But the temptation was too great--and I addressed him impulsively on the subject of that shipwreck.
He turned his big fair face towards me with surprise in his keen glance, which (as though he had seen through me in an instant and found nothing objectionable) changed subtly into friendliness.

On the matter of the shipwreck he did not say much.

He only told me that it had not occurred in the Mediterranean, but on the other side of Southern France--in the Bay of Biscay.

"But this is hardly the place to enter on a story of that kind," he observed, looking round at the room with a faint smile as attractive as the rest of his rustic but well-bred personality.
I expressed my regret.

I should have liked to hear all about it.