solid, broad of shoulder, a magnificent specimen of manhood. And though the hair was thin on top of his head, and his grave quiet face exhibited the deep lines of middle age, he moved with almost the springy-step of a boy. If others at the table were difficult to place on the scale of life, this mate was the most difficult of all. With that strong reflective face, and the bearing of one who knows only good manners (though he said nothing at all after his first courteously spoken, “Good morning!”) he could not have been other than a gentleman—Miss Andrews felt that—an American gentleman! Yet his position.... mate of a river steamer in China....!
The atmosphere about the table was constrained throughout the meal. The Chinese stewards padded softly about. The one-eyed man stared around the table without the slightest expression on his impassive face. The girl in the middy blouse kept her head over her plate. Miss Andrews once caught Rocky Kane glancing at her with an expression nearly as furtive as that of the thin man in the check suit. It was after this small incident that young Kane began helping her to this and that; and, when they rose, followed her out to her deck chair and insisted on tucking her up in her robe.
“These fall breezes are pretty sharp on the river,” he said. “But say, maybe it isn't hot in summer.”
“I suppose it is,” murmured Miss Andrews.
“I've been out here a couple of times with the pater. You'll find the river interesting. Oh, not down here”—he indicated the wide expanse of muddy water and the low-lying, distant shore—“but beyond Chinkiang and Nanking, where it's narrower. Lots of quaint sights. The ports are really fascinating. We stop a lot, you know. At Wuhu the water beggars come out in tubs.”
“In tubs!” breathed Miss Andrews.
Miss Means joined them then, book under arm; and met his offer to tuck her up with a crisply pointed, “No, thank you!”
He soon drifted away.
Said Miss Andrews: “Weren't you a little hard on him, Gerty?”
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