There was not for a moment a good, sound reason for the fate that had struck him and many others. There were reasons - greed, hatred, malice, neglect ... the usual culprits he supposed - but it was never enough. It would never be enough, any more than a scar could be washed enough to disappear.

But before him was a young man in crisis, and if nothing else - time had tempered his need to be right with a desire to do right.

"Life is full of moments, certainly," he decided. "May we make the best of them."

He wrinkled his nose at the sailor's assumption, but allowed a smile. Then he savored his cheap, watered down swill.