o to his bunk
and endeavor to sleep off the effects of the bad beer imbibed earlier
in the day.

Now, on this second night of the voyage, while the ship was plodding
steadily southward with that fifteen point inclination to the west that
would bring her far into the Atlantic soon after daybreak, Philip
remembered Mr. Verity's niece, and felt sorry that when she paid those
former visits to the _Andromeda_, fate had decreed that he should be
serving his time on another vessel. For there was an expression in her
eyes that haunted him. Though she addressed him with that absence of
restraint which is a heaven-sent attribute of every young woman when
circumstances compel her to speak to a strange young man--though her
tone to the more favored cook was kindly, and even sprightly--though
Philip himself was red and inclined to stammer--despite all these
hindrances to clear judgment, he felt that she was troubled in spirit.
His acquaintance with women was of the slightest, since a youth who is
taught his business on the _Conway_, and means to attach himself to one
of the great Trans-Atlantic shipping lines, has no time to spare for
dalliance in boudoirs. But it gave him a thrill when he heard that
this charming girl knew his name, and it seemed to him, for an instant,
that she was looking into his very soul, analyzing him, searching for
some sign that he was not as others, which meant that there were some
whom she had bitter cause to distrust. Of course, that was mere
day-dreaming, a nebulous fantasy brought by her gracious presence into
a medley of hurrying windlasses, strenuous orders, and sulky, panting
men.

At any rate, she had left a memento of her too brief appearance on
board in the shape of the bag. He would contrive to take on his own
shoulders its mission in Monte Video; then, on returning to Liverpool,
he would have an excuse for calling on her. He did not know her name
yet. Possibly, Captain Coke would mention that interesting fact when
his temper lost its raw edge. As a last resource, the cook might
enlighten him.

It was strange that he should be thinking of Iris--far stranger than he
could guess--but his thoughts were sub-conscious, and he was in no wise
neglecting the safety of the ship. The night was clear but dark, the
stars blinked with the subdued radiance that betokens fine weather, and
ever and anon their reflection glimmered from the long slope of a wave
like the glint of spangles on a dress.