‘Never mind, my pretty,’ whispered Maggie consolingly, ‘it’ll all come right some day. I have doubts about myself sometimes, because I’ve been a wicked girl, and it don’t seem right as I _should_ be happy. But I’ve none about you! I can see it as plain as a picture, and if I don’t live to see it, it will be all the same. You’ll have a good man and a true, please God, some day, to make up to you for the past!’ And Maggie turned away with a sob. ‘Why, dear Maggie! what’s the matter with you to-night?’ ‘Nothing, mistress, only Will’s too good to me sometimes, and makes me so ashamed of myself. But there now, the gentlemen are beginning to come down for their game, so I must run away, and you’d better do the same.’ And so the two women, who owed much of their immunity from discovery to Will Farrell’s careful look-out on their behalf, kissed each other, and separated for the night. The origin of this conversation was, that since the breaking up of the card-parties in the smoke-room, owing to the loose play of Godfrey Harland, the deckhouse had been deserted of an evening, and the gentlemen had betaken themselves elsewhere. Some played in the spacious berth of the second officers, others preferred the society of the ladies, and a few were invited to the second cabin, where smoking was not prohibited, and their less aristocratic fellow-passengers did their utmost to make them feel at home. Many a game at dominoes or whist had been played there lately by the men from the saloon, who had become so friendly with its rightful owners that they did not even wait for an invitation. Besides, in many respects, the second cabin was preferable to the deckhouse. In the former the steward was always at hand to provide refreshments, whilst in the latter, if a man wished for anything, he was compelled to go on deck and find the head steward, which interrupted the game, and annoyed all concerned.