deck. They looked out to the water, stretching in every direction into
the darkness. Then as if impelled by a common impulse, they looked at
each other, then blushed, and lowered their eyes. The girl's hands lay
on the railing. Chester saw their soft shapeliness, and noted also that
there were no rings on them.

"I'm glad I've met you," said Chester honestly.

"And I'm glad, too," she breathed. "Some other time you must tell me so
much. I've so many questions to ask. You'll do that, won't you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Now I must go to father. He may be uneasy." She held out her hand.
"Good night--what _do_ you think of me? Am I a rude girl?"

"I heard your father call you Lucy. That's your name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And I may call you that, may I not? You know these ship-board
acquaintances don't wait on ceremony."

"But I don't know your name, either. Think of it, how we have been
really confidential and we don't even know each other's name."

"I know yours."

"Only half of it. I've two more. How many have you?"