courtship ought to be, the attentions he paid to Cecily were most
humdrum. He threw rings into buckets with her--she was good at
that--and quoits upon the 'bull' board; he found her chair after the
decks were swabbed in the morning and established her in it; he
paced the deck with her at convenient times and seasons. They were
humdrum, but they were constant and cumulative. Cecily took them
with an even breath that perfectly matched. There was hardly
anything, on her part, to note--a little discreet observation of his
comings and goings, eyes scarcely lifted from her book, and later
just a hint of proprietorship, as the evening she came up to me on
deck, our first night in the Indian Ocean. I was lying in my long
chair looking at the thick, low stars and thinking it was a long
time since I had seen John.

'Dearest mamma, out here and nothing over your shoulders! You ARE
imprudent. Where is your wrap? Mr. Tottenham, will you please
fetch mamma's wrap for her?'

'If mamma so instructs me,' he said audaciously.

'Do as Cecily tells you,' I laughed, and he went and did it, while I
by the light of a quartermaster's lantern distinctly saw my daughter
blush.

Another time, when Cecily came down to undress, she bent over me as
I lay in the lower berth with unusual solicitude. I had been
dozing, and I jumped.

'What is it, child?' I said. 'Is the ship on fire?'