No lines nor hints of lines were there, suggestive of nervousness, of blue days of depression and white nights of insomnia.

Oh, she bore all the marks of the healthy, human female, who never worried nor was vexed in the spirit of her, and in whose body every process and function was frictionless and automatic.
"Miss West has posed to me as quite a weather prophet," I said to the mate.

"Now what is your forecast of our coming weather ?" "She ought to be," was Mr.Pike's reply as he lifted his glance across the smooth swell of sea to the sky.

"This ain't the first time she's been on the North Atlantic in winter." He debated a moment, as he studied the sea and sky.

"I should say, considering the high barometer, we ought to get a mild gale from the north-east or a calm, with the chances in favour of the calm." She favoured me with a triumphant smile, and suddenly clutched the rail as the _Elsinore_ lifted on an unusually large swell and sank into the trough with a roll from windward that flapped all the sails in hollow thunder.
"The calm has it," Miss West said, with just a hint of grimness.