'
Meanwhile, in her own state-room, Miss Jennie Brewster was looking at her
reflection in the glass. As she shook out her long hair until it rippled
down her back, she smiled sweetly, and said to herself:
'Poor Mr. Wentworth! Only the first night out, and he told me his name
was George.'
CHAPTER III.
The second day out was a pleasant surprise for all on board who had made
up their minds to a disagreeable winter passage. The air was clear, the
sky blue as if it were spring-time, instead of midwinter. They were in
the Gulf Stream. The sun shone brightly and the temperature was mild.
Nevertheless, it was an uncomfortable day for those who were poor
sailors. Although there did not seem, to the casual observer, to be much
of a sea running, the ship rolled atrociously. Those who had made heroic
resolutions on the subject were sitting in silent misery in their
deck-chairs, which had been lashed to firm stanchions. Few were walking
the clean bright deck, because walking that morning was a gymnastic feat.
Three or four who evidently wished to show they had crossed before, and
knew all about it, managed to make their way along the deck. Those
recumbent in the steamer-chairs watched with lazy interest the
pedestrians who now and then stood still, leaning apparently far out of
the perpendicular, as the deck inclined downward. Sometimes the
pedestrian's feet slipped, and he shot swiftly down the incline. Such an
incident was invariably welcomed by those who sat.
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