What with the low mist and the spray, they never actually saw the ring hit the water. Rather, it seemed to vanish in the air moments after leaving Gray's hand.

"Now come with me," she told him.

"Where?"

"Just come with me."

When they reached her cabin she told him to sit on the bed. The curtains drawn across the portholes, the light was soft like evening light. The sounds, too, were comforting: the throb of turbines below, faint Spanish voices from above.

"Remember, now," she told him. "We've only just met. We know nothing about one another, not even last names."

She undressed slowly, methodically, standing in front of him just out of arm's reach. She was thinner than he remembered but otherwise the same.

"We're also a little afraid," she whispered. "You see, the German submarines are everywhere. At any moment a torpedo could strike, and the sea could come crashing through the wall."

She reached for his hand, pressing it hard against her left breast. She had always loved the contrast of their skin. "And neither of us has made love in a long time, so we're a little unsure how to proceed."

She knelt at his feet, put her head in his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair, and shut his eyes. She trembled as his lips slid down her spine, then lower to the smooth hip. Then, although she continued to lie very still, he felt her breasts rising and falling against his chest with each breath. Her cool thighs also began stirring as she guided his hand across her belly.

"And we're lost," she whispered. "That's another thing. We're completely lost."

Afterward they rested, ignoring the cocktail bell and laughter from the passageway. It was dark, and once again she was like a shadow beside him. He couldn't even hear her breathe.

Then suddenly out of nowhere: "Tell me about Charles. What's he like now?"

Gray turned on his side. Her nipples were stiff, prominent in the weak light from the porthole. "I thought he no longer existed, I thought he was killed in the war with the rest of them—"

"Just tell me about him, Nicky."

"He hasn't changed all that much."

"Did he ever find a wife?"

"No."

"A lover?"

"No, I don't think so."

"A mistress?"

"I don't think so."

"Then he still hates me for leaving him, doesn't he?"

"Probably."

He had lit a cigarette, she was staring at the ceiling. The voices from the passageway had faded, but the throb of the turbines seemed louder.

"And now I want you to tell me about what happened at that battle," she said.

From the corner of his eye he actually thought he saw her breasts trembling with the heartbeat. "What battle?"

"You know. The one at the river Somme."

He took a while to answer, then said briefly, "Mostly it was machine guns."

"How many were shot?"