e, not the christening gift of godmother
nature. That sort of girl, Max reflected, was meant to be cherished and
taken care of. And why was she not taken care of? He wondered if she had
run away from home, in her dainty prettiness, to be jostled by this
unappreciative, second-class crowd? She was brave enough, though,
despite her look of flower-delicacy, to stop on deck long after the ship
had steamed out from the comparatively quiet, rock-bound harbour, and
plunged into the tossing sea. At last a big wave drove the girl away,
and Max did not see her again until dinner time. He came late and
reluctantly into the close-smelling dining-saloon, and found her already
seated at the long table. Her place was nearly opposite his, and as he
sat down she looked up with a quick, interested look which had girlish
curiosity in it, and a complete lack of self-consciousness that was
perhaps characteristic. Evidently, as he had separated her in his mind
from the rabble, wondering about her, so she had separated him and
wondered also. She was too far away for Max to speak, even if he had
dared; but a moment later a big man who squeezed himself in between
table and revolving chair, next to the girl, made an excuse to ask for
the salt, and begin a conversation. He did this in a matter-of-fact,
bourgeois way, however, which not even a prude or a snob could think
offensive. And apparently the girl was far from being a prude or a snob.
She answered with a soft, girlish charm of manner which gave the
impression that she was generously kind of heart. Then something that
the man said made her flush up and start with surprise.

From that moment on the two were absorbed in each other. Could it be,
Max asked himself, that the big, rough fellow and the daintily bred girl
had found an acquaintance in common? There seemed to be a gulf between
them as wide as the world, yet evidently they had hit upon some subject
which interested them both. Through the clatter of dishes Max caught
words, or fragments of sentences, all spoken in French. The man had a
common accent, but the girl's was charming. She had a peculiarly sweet,
soft voice, that somehow matched the sweetness and softness of the long,
straight-lashed eyes under the low, level brows, so delicately yet
clearly pencilled. Max guessed at first that she was English; then from
some slight inflection of tone, wondered if she were Irish instead. It
was a name which sounded like "Sidi-bel-Abbes" that m