saloon the next day, after dinner, over the red cloth of the
tables, beneath the swinging lamps and the racks of tumblers, decanters
and wine-glasses, we sat down to whist, Mrs. Peck, among others, taking
a hand in the game. She played very badly and talked too much, and when
the rubber was over assuaged her discomfiture (though not mine--we had
been partners) with a Welsh rabbit and a tumbler of something hot. We
had done with the cards, but while she waited for this refreshment she
sat with her elbows on the table shuffling a pack.

'She hasn't spoken to me yet--she won't do it,' she remarked in a
moment.

'Is it possible there is any one on the ship who hasn't spoken to you?'

'Not that girl--she knows too well!' Mrs. Peck looked round our little
circle with a smile of intelligence--she had familiar, communicative
eyes. Several of our company had assembled, according to the wont, the
last thing in the evening, of those who are cheerful at sea, for the
consumption of grilled sardines and devilled bones.

'What then does she know?'

'Oh, she knows that I know.'

'Well, we know what Mrs. Peck knows,' one of the ladies of the group
observed to me, with an air of privilege.

'Well, you wouldn't know if I hadn't told you--from the way she acts,'
said Mrs. Peck, with a small laugh.

'She is going out to a gentleman who lives over there--he's waiting
there to marry her,' the other lady went on, in the tone of authentic
information. I remember that her name was Mrs. Gotch and that her mouth
looked always as if she were whistling.

'Oh, he knows--I've told him,' said Mrs. Peck.

'Well, I presume every one knows,' Mrs. Gotch reflected.

'Dear madam, is it every one's business?' I asked.

'Why, don't you think it's a peculiar way to act?' Mrs. Gotch was
evidently surprised at my little protest.

'Why, it's right there--straight in front of you, like a play at the
theatre--as if you had paid to see it,' said Mrs. Peck. 'If you don't
call it public----!'

'Aren't you mixing things up? What do you call public?'

'Why, the way they go on. They are up there now.'

'They cuddle up there half the night,' said Mrs. Gotch. 'I don't know
when they come down. Any hour you like--when all the lights are out they
are up there still.'

'Oh, you can't tire them out. They don't want relief--like the watch!'
laughed one of the gentlemen.

'Well, if they enjoy each other's society what's the harm?' another
asked. 'They'd do