He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo.
Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning.

Perhaps it was the Irish blood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers.
Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with the somewhat disheveled hair.

There was a press of people along the rail which caused Lucy's shoulders to snuggle closely to his side.

Chester was silent.
"Yes;" she went on, "there's dear old Ireland.

You see, this is my second visit, and it's like coming home.