To my perplexity, her face expressed both surprise and pleasure. It was
as though either she thought she knew me, or that I reminded her of some
man she did know. Were the latter the case, he must have been a friend,
for the way in which she looked at me was kind. And there was, besides,
the expression of surprise and as though something she saw pleased her.
Maybe it was the quickness with which I had offered my chair. Still
looking at me, she pointed to one of the sky-scrapers.

"Could you tell me," she asked, "the name of that building?" Had her
question not proved it, her voice would have told me not only that she
was a stranger, but that she was Irish. It was particularly soft, low,
and vibrant. It made the commonplace question she asked sound as though
she had sung it. I told her the name of the building, and that farther
uptown, as she would see when we moved into midstream, there was another
still taller. She listened, regarding me brightly, as though interested;
but before her I was embarrassed, and, fearing I intruded, I again made
a movement to go away. With another question she stopped me. I could see
no reason for her doing so, but it was almost as though she had asked
the question only to detain me.

"What is that odd boat," she said, "pumping water into the river?"

I explained that it was a fire-boat testing her hose-lines, and then as
we moved into the channel I gained courage, and found myself pointing
out the Statue of Liberty, Governors Island, and the Brooklyn Bridge.
The fact that it was a stranger who was talking did not seem to disturb
her. I cannot tell how she conveyed the idea, but I soon felt that she
felt, no matter what unconventional thing she chose to do, people would
not be rude, or misunderstand.

I considered telling her my name. At first it seemed that that would be
more polite. Then I saw to do so would be forcing myself upon her, that
she was interested in me only as a guide to New York Harbor.

When we passed the Brooklyn Navy Yard I talked so much and so eagerly of
the battle-ships at anchor there that the lady must have thought I had
followed the sea, for she asked: "Are you a sailorman?"

It was the first question that was in any way personal.

"I used to sail a catboat," I said.

My answer seemed to puzzle her, and she frowned. Then she laughed
delightedly, like one having made a discovery.

"You don't say 'sailorman,'" she said. "What do you ask, over here, when
you w