"You are not a sailor?"

"I have had some experience--and I am willing."

"You have been ill, haven't you?"

"Yes--miss."

"Could you polish brass, and things like that?"

"I could try. My arms are strong enough. It is only when I walk--"

But she did not let me finish. She left the rail abruptly, and
disappeared down the companionway into the after house. I waited
uncertainly. The captain saw me still loitering, and scowled. A
procession of men with trunks jostled me; a colored man, evidently a
butler, ordered me out of his way while he carried down into the
cabin, with almost reverent care, a basket of wine.

When the girl returned, she came to me, and stood for a moment,
looking me over with cool, appraising eyes. I had been right about
her appearance: she was charming--or no, hardly charming. She was
too aloof for that. But she was beautiful, an Irish type, with
blue-gray eyes and almost black hair. The tilt of her head was
haughty. Later I came to know that her hauteur was indifference:
but at first I was frankly afraid of her, afraid of her cool,
mocking eyes and the upward thrust of her chin.

"My brother-in-law is not here," she said after a moment, "but my
sister is below in the cabin. She will speak to the captain about