Four of the people came by now--a quartet of young girls abreast, making a circuit of the deck. Their eight eyes swept momentarily towards Adrian and Eva, and then swept automatically back, save for one pair which lingered for an instant with a little start. They belonged to one of the girls in the middle, who was, indeed, the only passenger of the four. She was not more than eighteen--a dark little beauty with the fine crystal gloss over her that, in brunettes, takes the place of a blonde's bright glow.
'Now, who's that?' wondered Adrian. 'I've seen her before.'
'She's pretty,' said Eva.
'Yes.' He kept wondering, and Eva deferred momentarily to his distraction; then, smiling up at him, she drew him back into their privacy.
'Tell me more,' she said.
'About what?'
'About us--what a good time we'll have, and how we'll be much better and happier, and very close always.'
'How could we be any closer?' His arm pulled her to him.
'But I mean never even quarrel any more about silly things. You know, I made up my mind when you gave me my birthday present last week'--her fingers caressed the fine seed pearls at her throat--'that I'd try never to say a mean thing to you again.'
'You never have, my precious.'
Yet even as he strained her against his side she knew that the moment of utter isolation had passed almost before it had begun. His antennae were already out, feeling over this new world.
'Most of the people look rather awful,' he said--'little and swarthy and ugly. Americans didn't use to look like that.'
'They look dreary,' she agreed. 'Let's not get to know anybody, but just stay together.'