"Are those gulls or terns?" she wondered aloud. He turned to face her but all he could see was a bright red spot; he had been staring at the setting sun for too long.
She was frowning now. "Why are men so shallow?" she asked, once again, not expecting an answer. He wasn't going to let this one pass, he had too much to say "You folks have been fooling yourself for too long. Didn't I see you drop your tongue and wag your tail at the handsome rich guy we met at the concert? We are reconciled to our shallowness and you have invented chivalry, sense of humour and intellectual stimulation."
The surface of the water still shimmered and the clouds over the horizon were painted in a thousand hues. Things like that didn't touch her; "Simple pleasures are overrated" she had always maintained. She was staring at her own toes. He heard the drummer by the quay, the racket caused by three drunk teenagers kicking a cola can and the distant steamer's heart-rending wail. She was a loner, always had been. She had blanked out all the noise and she wanted nothing to break her peace. He, on the other hand, could hardly bear the agitation of the long-drawn silence. "Those are terns"