But the girl continually intruded in his thoughts, and he wondered idly why it was that an ocean voyage, or a long train journey, so often awoke romantic imaginings. Perhaps it was the feeling of irresponsibility which arose from the certainty that you would never see your fellow travellers again.
‘You’re on vacation here, not busy at all!’
‘An author never has a vacation. He’s a walking sponge, sopping up impressions till he’s saturated, then going to his desk and squeezing them out on paper.’