"This thing will get on all our nerves before we are over," Brand, a
breezy newspaper man from the West, observed. "What with boat drill
three times a day, and lifebelt parade going on all the time on the
deck, one doesn't get a chance to forget that we are liable to get a
torpedo in our side at any moment."

"Oh, these little gnats of Uncle Sam's will look after us!" a more
cheerful _confrere_ observed. "Come into the smoking room and I'll buy
you a drink."

A good deal of courage seemed to be sought in that direction, and
presently, although the afterglow of the sunset was still brilliant,
the decks were almost deserted. On the starboard side, only a man and
a woman remained, and gradually, as though with a certain
unwillingness, they drifted closer together. The woman, who wore a
black and white check coat over her blue serge steamer dress, and a
small black hat from which she had pushed back the veil, was leaning
over the side of the steamer, her head supported by her hand, looking
steadily into the mass of red and orange clouds. The man, who was
smoking a cigar, with both hands in his ulster pockets, seemed as
though he would have passed her, but without turning her head she held
out her hand and beckoned him to her side.

"I was beginning to wonder whether you were an absentee," Katharine
remarked.

"I have been making friends with the captain," Jocelyn Thew replied.

"Please arrange my chair," she begged. "I should like to sit down."