answer that can be given. On the present occasion Miss More said
nothing and turned her eyes to the sea, leaving Margaret to make any
deduction she pleased; but only one suggested itself, namely, that the
deceased Senator had taken very little interest in the child of his
old age, and had felt no affection for her. Margaret wondered whether
he had left her rich, but Miss More's silence told her that she had
already asked too many questions.

She glanced down the long line of passengers beyond Miss More and Ida.
Men, women, and children lay side by side in their chairs, wrapped and
propped like a row of stuffed specimens in a museum. They were not
interesting, Margaret thought; for those who were awake all looked
discontented, and those who were asleep looked either ill or
apoplectic. Perhaps half of them were crossing because they were
obliged to go to Europe for one reason or another; the other half were
going in an aimless way, because they had got into the habit while
they were young, or had been told that it was the right thing to do,
or because their doctors sent them abroad to get rid of them. The grey
light from the waves was reflected on the immaculate and shiny white
paint, and shed a cold glare on the commonplace faces and on the
plaid rugs, and on the vivid magazines which many of the people were
reading, or pretending to read; for most persons only look at the
pictures nowadays, and read the advertisements. A steward in a very
short jacket was serving perfectly unnecessary cups of weak broth on a
big tray, and a great number of the passengers took some, with a vague
idea that the Company's feelings might be hurt if they did not, or
else that they would not be getting their money's worth.

Between the railing and the feet of the passengers, which stuck out
over the foot-rests of their chairs to different lengths according