"Oh yes. Good-night, Evelyn!" and she gave him her hand.
Brand went with her down the companion-stairs, carrying her rugs and shawls. In the corridor she turned to bid him good-night also.
"Dearest," she said, in a low voice, "do you know what I have been trying all day—to get you to say one word, the smallest word, of regret?"
"But if I have no regret whatever, how can I express any?"
"Sure?"
He laughed, and kissed her.
"Good-night, my darling!"
"Good-night; God bless you!"
Then he made his way along the gloomy corridor again and up the broad zinc steps, and out into the moonlight. Evelyn was there, leaning with his arms on the hand-rail, and idly watching, far below, the gleams of light on the gray-black waves.
"It is too fine a night to go below," he said. "What do you say, Brand—shall we wait up for the daylight and the first glimpse of America?"