"You're right. _You're_ the man with imagination. A black-haired
chap in a decked ship," I said.
"No, an open ship--like a big boat."
This was maddening.
"Your ship has been built and designed, closed and decked in; you
said so yourself," I protested.
"No, no, not that ship. That was open, or half decked because----. By
Jove you're right. You made me think of the hero as a red-haired
chap. Of course if he were red, the ship would be an open one
with painted sails."
Surely, I thought he would remember now that he had served in
two galleys at least--in a three-decked Greek one under the
black-haired "political man," and again in a Viking's open
sea-serpent under the man "red as a red bear" who went to
Markland. The devil prompted me to speak.
"Why, 'of course,' Charlie?" said I.
"I don't know. Are you making fun of me?"
The current was broken for the time being. I took up a notebook
and pretended to make many entries in it.
"It's a pleasure to work with an imaginative chap like yourself," I
said after a pause. "The way that you've brought out the character
of the hero is simply wonderful.
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