Goodnight!" She called her salutation gayly over her shoulder, and Mrs.March watched her gliding out of the saloon with a graceful tilt to humor the slight roll of the ship, and a little lurch to correct it, once or twice, and wondered if Burnamy was afraid of her; it seemed to her that if she were a young man she should not be afraid of Miss Triscoe.
The next morning, just after she had arranged herself in her steamer chair, he approached her, bowing and smiling, with the first of his many bows and smiles for the day, and at the same time Miss Triscoe came toward her from the opposite direction.

She nodded brightly to him, and he gave her a bow and smile too; he always had so many of them to spare.
"Here is your chair!" Mrs.March called to her, drawing the shawl out of the chair next her own.

"Mr.March is wandering about the ship somewhere." "I'll keep it for him," said Miss Triscoe, and as Burnamy offered to take the shawl that hung in the hollow of her arm, she let it slip into his hand with an "Oh; thank you," which seemed also a permission for him to wrap it about her in the chair.
He stood talking before the ladies, but he looked up and down the promenade.

The pivotal girl showed herself at the corner of the music-room, as she had done the day before.

At first she revolved there as if she were shedding her light on some one hidden round the corner; then she moved a few paces farther out and showed herself more obviously alone.