Eve went slowly back to her own cell. But the dimness, the warm air, oppressed her; she sat down on a stool behind her closed door, the excitement of the day still remaining with her. "Is it possible that I am becoming nervous?--I, who have always despised nervousness?" She kept saying to herself, "I will go to bed in a few minutes." But the idea of lying there on that narrow shelf, staring at the light from the grating, repelled her. "At any rate I will _not_ go on deck." Ten minutes later she opened her door and went out. The swinging lamp in the saloon was turned down, the place was empty; she crossed the short half-circle which led to the stern-deck, and stepped outside. There was no moon, but a magnificent aurora borealis was quivering across the sky, now an even band, now sending out long flakes of light which waved to and fro. Before she looked at the splendid heavens, however, she had scanned the deck. There was no one there. She sat down on one of the benches. Presently she heard a step, some one was approaching. There was a gleam of a cigar; a man's figure; Paul. "Is that you? I thought there would be no one here," she said. "We are the only passengers," Paul answered. "But, as there are six of us, you cannot quite control us all." "I control no one." ("Not even myself!" she thought.) "You will have your wish, though you ought not to; despots shouldn't be humored. You will have the place to yourself in a few moments, because I shall turn in soon--the time to finish this cigar--if you don't mind the smoke?" "No, I don't mind," she answered, a chill of disappointment creeping slowly over her. "Hasn't it been jolly?" Paul said, after a moment: he had seated himself on a stool near her bench. "I do love to be out like this, away from all bother." "Do you? I thought you didn't." The words were no sooner out than she feared he would say, "Why?" And then her answer (for of course she must say something; she could not let him believe that she had had no idea)--her answer would show that she had been thinking about him. But apparently Paul was not curious, he did not ask. "It's very good for Cicely too; I wish I could take her oftener," he went on. "Her promise to stay on here weighs upon her heavily. I don't know whether she would have kept her word with me or not; but you know, of course, that Ferdie himself has written, telling her that she must stay?" "No." "She didn't tell you?" "She tells me nothing!" replied Eve. "If she would only allow it, I would go down there to-morrow. I could be the nurse; I could be the housekeeper; anything." "You're not needed down there, they have plenty of people; we want you here, to see to her." "One or the other of them;--I hope they will always permit it. I can be of use, perhaps, about Jack."