Almost simultaneously, as if by a prearranged signal, Hannah’s drapes flew shut, and Collis clamped his hands over his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the damned stupid despicable luck. He might have been able to save the situation with Hannah if he had met her in a gentlemanly fashion at breakfast, and buttered her muffins for her, and warmed her frostiness with his usual flattery. He could have assured her that it was lonesomeness, not lust, that had led him to tap on her cabin door, seeking comfort. He could have begged her forgiveness for his foolish behaviour, and bought her perfume in Panama to make up for it. Instead, what had happened? She had spied on him, the silly woman, and caught him standing on the deck at dawn in nothing but his nightshirt, apparently enjoying a one-man display of the largest and least respectable bosom on the entire boat.

‘You may dress now,’ he said to Maria-Mamuska, in a small, restrained voice.

He waited for what he considered to be a respectable time and then uncovered his eyes. She was still standing there bare-breasted, staring at him with that fierce look of hers, and the dawn breeze made her nipples as stiff as charcoals. It made her eyes water, too, although Collis wasn’t certain if she was crying or not.

He took hold of her Pueblo blanket and gently covered her with it. She stood where she was, not moving, although she lowered her head slightly, and some of the tension and anger seemed to filter out of her.

He said hesitantly, ‘You mustn’t blame every man you meet. I know you feel like it. But you must try to understand that what happened was the result of one old man’s lechery, just one old man, and not every man in the world.’

‘All men look at me the same,’ she said, sullenly and softly.

‘Well, they do,’ Collis agreed, ‘but that’s because of the way you dress and the way you act. If you wear your blouse as low as that, and if you smoke that way, and talk so rough, then men are bound to think that you’re easy pickings. I did myself.’

She lifted her head and stared at him defiantly. ‘What do you know? You come from New York. You’re a gentleman.’

‘A poor gentleman.’

She gave him a half-forgiving smile. ‘Not so poor. Not really so poor. And anyway, you’ll make plenty of money in San Francisco.’

‘I hope so.’

There was a short silence, during which the sky lightened surprisingly quickly. A door opened further down the promenade deck, and a sleepy-eyed man in crumpled broadcloth pants, an undershirt, and suspenders came out on deck, and systematically scratched his ribs and yawned at the distant coastline.

‘I’d better get back to my cabin,’ said Collis.

Maria-Mamuska nodded.