Dixon smiled and turned his ring. The blackish,monkey-puckered face pursed its human mouth with gentle pleasure and its voice purred:
—Delightful weather for March. Simply delightful.
—There are two nice young ladies upstairs, captain,tired of waiting, Dixon said.
Cranly smiled and said kindly:
—The captain has only one love: sir Walter Scott. Isn't that so, captain?
—What are you reading now, captain? Dixon asked.
The Bride of Lammermoor?