“When shall we be in, captain?” asked Mrs. Blake anxiously, forgetting that this was one of the questions which according to ship etiquette must never be asked of the officers.

But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at Shirley Capt.  Hegermann did not mind.  He answered amiably: 

“At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island sometime to-morrow evening.  If we do, that will get us to our dock about 11 o’clock Friday morning, I fancy.”  Then addressing Shirley direct he said: 

“And you, fraulein, I hope you won’t be glad the voyage is over?”

Shirley sighed and a worried, anxious look came into her face.

“Yes, Captain, I shall be very glad.  It is not pleasure that is bringing me back to America so soon.”

The captain elevated his eyebrows.  He was sorry the young lady had anxieties to keep her so serious, and he hoped she would find everything all right on her arrival.  Then, politely saluting, he passed on, only to halt again a few paces on where his bewhiskered gallantry met with more encouragement.

Mrs. Blake rose from her chair.  The air was decidedly cooler, she would go downstairs and prepare for dinner.  Shirley said she would remain on deck a little longer.  She was tired of walking, so when her aunt left them she took her chair and told Jefferson to get another.  He wanted nothing better, but before seating himself he took the rugs and wrapped Shirley up with all the solicitude of a mother caring for her first born.  Arranging the pillow under her head, he asked: 

“Is that comfortable?”

She nodded, smiling at him.

“You’re a good boy, Jeff.  But you’ll spoil me.”

“Nonsense,” he stammered as he took another chair and put himself by her side.  “As if any fellow wouldn’t give his boots to do a little job like that for you!”

She seemed to take no notice of the covert compliment.  In fact, she already took it as a matter of course that Jefferson was very fond of her.

Did she love him?  She hardly knew.  Certainly she thought more of him than of any other man she knew and she readily believed that she could be with him for the rest of her life and like him better every day.  Then, too, they had become more intimate during the last few days.  This trouble, this unknown peril had drawn them together.  Yes, she would be sorry if she were to see Jefferson paying attention to another woman.  Was this love?  Perhaps.

These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat there side by side isolated from the main herd of passengers, each silent, watching through the open rail the foaming water as it rushed past.  Jefferson had been casting furtive glances at his companion and as he noted her serious, pensive face he thought how pretty she was.  He wondered what she was thinking of and suddenly inspired no doubt by the mysterious power that enables some people to read the thoughts of others, he said abruptly: