As the nymphs of sky and sea would have it, he’d speak again. She straightened without hurry, taking care to deposit the quilt underarm, thick as it was, and wouldn’t respond until that was certainly well done. A couple more seconds elapsed as she just refreshed on the sight of him, so dutiful with the basket. Stockstill, the shadows of orange trees dappling the sunlight that fell upon him.

“ I leave shame to other people. “ She shrugged, unaffected, and turned for the garden gate she’d seen looming at the other end of the yard. Wrought iron in shape of spears overlain with twisted vines and their leaves, nestled within a little arch betwixt some other building and an end of that wall she meant to climb earlier.

“ Throw the lot off the pier if you like. And have a nice day, pilot. “

Ei muistella pahalla — välttämättä. She bid him farewell with a mock salute, flicked off the brow.
 
A laugh. A heel click. And the snap of his own salute. Over delivered and too spine straight. "Aye, aye, Miss Mystery," smiled soft. "Luck to you and the wee grub then," he said warm for all the wist. Turned on his heels, and let fly the basket over his shoulder. Whichever way it went. Walked straight through the house, grabbed up the good coat, and made off his merry way, easy out the front door. Walked like he always belonged until he bumped into a man, just about his own size. "Oh, pardon me," he said without missing a beat.

The man just blinked. Flabbers surely ghasted. His young wife there behind him in her bonet, just as surprised by the site. But the pilot was already well down the street.

"Was that... was that your coat, Charleston?"

"Why, Gertrude, I do believe it was," he looked to the flick of the man's tail. "Bastard wore it well, didn't he?"

"Charleston!"
 
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