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.
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