She looked somewhat doubtful at this till she caught the heat of Glenister’s gaze. Some boldness of his look brought home to her the actual situation, and a stain rose in her cheek. She noted him more carefully; noted his heavy shoulders and ease of bearing, an ease and looseness begotten of perfect muscular control. Strength was equally suggested in his face, she thought, for he carried a marked young countenance, with thrusting chin, aggressive thatching brows, and mobile mouth that whispered all the changes from strength to abandon. Prominent was a look of reckless energy. She considered him handsome in a heavy, virile, perhaps too purely physical fashion.
“You want to stowaway?” he asked.
“I’ve had a right smart experience in that line,” said Dextry, “but I never done it by proxy. What’s your plan?”
“She will stay here to-night,” said Glenister quickly. “You and I will go below. Nobody will see her.”
“I can’t let you do that,” she objected. “Isn’t there some place where I can hide?” But they reassured her and left.
When they had gone, she crouched trembling upon her seat for a long time, gazing fixedly before her. “I’m afraid!” she whispered; “I’m afraid. What am I getting into? Why do men look so at me? I’m frightened. Oh, I’m sorry I undertook it.” At last she rose wearily. The close cabin oppressed her; she felt the need of fresh air. So, turning out the lights, she stepped forth into the night. Figures loomed near the rail and she slipped astern, screening herself behind a life-boat, where the cool breeze fanned her face.
The forms she had seen approached, speaking earnestly. Instead of passing, they stopped abreast of her hiding-place; then, as they began to talk, she saw that her retreat was cut off and that she must not stir.
“What brings her here?” Glenister was echoing a question of Dextry’s. “Bah! What brings them all? What brought ‘the Duchess,’ and Cherry Malotte, and all the rest?”
“No, no,” said the old man. “She ain’t that kind—she’s too fine, too delicate—too pretty.”
“That’s just it—too pretty! Too pretty to be alone—or anything except what she is.”