"She is pretty," said Cartoner, with a spontaneity which would have
meant much to feminine ears.

"You'll fall in love with her," said Mangles, lugubriously. "They all
do. She says she can't help it."

Cartoner looked at him as one who has ears but hears not. He made no
reply.

"Distresses her very much," concluded Mangles, dexterously shifting his
cigar by a movement of the tongue from the port to the starboard side
of his mouth. Cartoner did not seem to be very much interested in Miss
Netty Cahere. He was a man having that air of detachment from personal
environments which is apt to arouse curiosity in the human heart, more
especially in feminine hearts. People wanted to know what there was in
Cartoner's past that gave him so much to think about in the present.

The two men had not spoken again when Miss Netty Cahere came on deck.
She was accompanied by the fourth officer, a clean-built, clean-shaven
young man, who lost his heart every time he crossed the Atlantic. He
was speaking rather earnestly to Miss Cahere, who listened with an
expression of puzzled protest on her pretty face. She had wondering blue
eyes and a complexion of the most delicate pink and white which never
altered. She was slightly built, and carried herself in a subtly
deprecating manner, as if her own opinion of herself were small, and she
wished the world to accept her at that valuation. She made no sign
of having perceived her uncle, but nevertheless dismissed the fourth
officer, who reluctantly mounted the ladder to the bridge, looking back
as he went.