"It's pretty windy here, Shirley," shouted Jefferson, steadying
himself against a stanchion. "Don't you want to walk a little?"

He had begun to call her by her first name quite naturally, as if
it were a matter of course. Indeed, their relations had come to be
more like those of brother and sister than anything else. Shirley
was too much troubled over the news from home to have a mind for
other things, and in her distress she had turned to Jefferson for
advice and help as she would have looked to an elder brother. He
had felt this impulse to confide in him and consult his opinion
and it had pleased him more than he dared betray. He had shown her
all the sympathy of which his warm, generous nature was capable,
yet secretly he did not regret that events had necessitated this
sudden return home together on the same ship. He was sorry for
Judge Rossmore, of course, and there was nothing he would not do
on his return to secure a withdrawal of the charges. That his
father would use his influence he had no doubt. But meantime he
was selfish enough to be glad for the opportunity it gave him to
be a whole week alone with Shirley. No matter how much one may be
with people in city or country or even when stopping at the same
hotel or house, there is no place in the world where two persons,
especially when they are of the opposite sex, can become so
intimate as on shipboard. The reason is obvious. The days are long
and monotonous. There is nowhere to go, nothing to see but the
ocean, nothing to do but read, talk or promenade. Seclusion in
one's stuffy cabin is out of the question, the public sitting
rooms are noisy and impossible, only a steamer chair on deck is
comfortable and once there snugly wrapped up in a rug it is
surprising how quickly another chair makes its appearance
alongside and how welcome one is apt to make the intruder.