The same game of whist was going on, and the man with the Perrique tobacco had filled another pipe and continued to blow the smoke through his nose.
After a while Vandover went back to the main deck and wandered aft, where he stood a long time looking over the stern, interested in watching the receding water.

It was dark by this time, the wind had increased and had blown the fog to landward, and the ocean had changed to a deep blue, the blue of the sky at night; here and there a wave broke, leaving a line of white on the sea like the trail of a falling star across the heavens, while the white haze of the steamer's wake wandered vaguely across the intense blue like the milky way across the zenith.
Vandover was horribly bored.

There seemed to be absolutely nothing to amuse him, unless, indeed, he should decide to renew his acquaintance with Grace Irving.

But this was out of the question now, for he knew what it would lead to.

Even if he should yield to the temptation, he did not see how he could take any great pleasure in that sort of thing again, after what had happened.
Of all the consequences of what he had done, the one which had come to afflict him the most poignantly was that his enjoyment of life was spoiled.