'I would not willingly do what my father disapproved of;' then in a lower voice she added: 'except, perhaps, one thing.'
Her father, who had caught snatches of the conversation, now leaned across towards his nephew, and said warningly:
'I think Edith is quite capable of judging for herself. This is my seventh voyage with her, and I have always found such to be the case. This happens to be your first, and so, were I you, I would not pursue the subject further.'
The young man was silent, and Edith gave her father a grateful glance. Thus it was that, while she might not have given a thought to Kenyon, the remarks which her cousin had made, brought to her mind, when she was alone, the two young men, and the contrast between them was not at all to the advantage of her cousin.
The scrubbing-brushes on the deck above him woke Kenyon early next morning. For a few moments after getting on deck he thought he had the ship to himself. One side of the deck was clean and wet; on the other side the men were slowly moving the scrubbing-brushes backward and forward, with a drowsy swish-swish. As he walked up the deck, he saw there was one passenger who had been earlier than himself.
Edith Longworth turned round as she heard his step, and her face brightened into a smile when she saw who it was.
Kenyon gravely raised his steamer cap and bade her 'Good-morning.'
'You are an early riser, Mr. Kenyon.'
'Not so early as you are, I see.'
'I think I am an exceptional passenger in that way,' replied the girl. 'I always enjoy the early morning at sea. I like to get as far forward on the steamer as possible, so that there is nothing between me and the boundless anywhere. Then it seems as if the world belongs to myself, with nobody else in it.'