"I've had a right smart experience in that line," said Dextry,
"but I never done it by proxy. What's your plan?"

"She will stay here to-night," said Glenister quickly. "You and I
will go below. Nobody will see her."

"I can't let you do that," she objected. "Isn't there some place
where I can hide?" But they reassured her and left.

When they had gone, she crouched trembling upon her seat for a
long time, gazing fixedly before her. "I'm afraid!" she whispered;
"I'm afraid. What am I getting into? Why do men look so at me? I'm
frightened. Oh, I'm sorry I undertook it." At last she rose
wearily. The close cabin oppressed her; she felt the need of fresh
air. So, turning out the lights, she stepped forth into the night.
Figures loomed near the rail and she slipped astern, screening
herself behind a life-boat, where the cool breeze fanned her face.

The forms she had seen approached, speaking earnestly. Instead of
passing, they stopped abreast of her hiding-place; then, as they
began to talk, she saw that her retreat was cut off and that she
must not stir.

"What brings her here?" Glenister was echoing a question of
Dextry's. "Bah! What brings them all? What brought 'the Duchess,'
and Cherry Malotte, and all the rest?"

"No, no," said the old man. "She ain't that kind--she's too fine,
too delicate--too pretty."