A few men were temporarily in possession of the deck, striding to and fro behind pipes or cigars. The regulation as to "No smoking abaft this" was not in force yet, or was, at least, disobeyed at present. Heriot sauntered along the length of deck until it began to fill again. The pile of chairs received attention--they were set out in a row under the awning. The deck took a dryness and a whiteness, and a few passengers sat down, and questioned inwardly if they would find one another companionable. He bent his steps to the smoking-room. But it was empty and uninviting thus early, and he forsook it after a few minutes. As the door slammed behind him, he came face to face with the woman who had been his wife. CHAPTER XIII She approached--their gaze met--he had bowed, and passed her. Perhaps it had lasted a second, the mental convulsion in which he looked in her eyes; he did not know. He found a seat and sank into it, staring at the sky and sea, acutely conscious of nothing but her nearness. He could not tell whether it was despair or rejoicing that beat in him; he knew nothing but that the world had swayed, that life was in an instant palpitating and vivid--that he had seen her! Then he knew that, in the intensity of emotion that shook him body and brain, there was a thrill of joy, inexplicable but insistent. But when he rose at last, he dreaded that he might see her again. He did not see her till the evening--when he drew back at the door of the saloon as she came out. His features were imperturbable now and betrayed nothing, though her own, before her head drooped, were piteous in appeal. He noted that she looked pale and ill, and that she wore a black dress with crape on it. He wondered whether she had lost her father, or her aunt. Next morning he understood that it was her father, for he saw her sitting beside Mrs. Baines. So Dick Cheriton was dead. He had once been fond of Dick Cheriton.... The stranger in the black frock had once slept in his arms, and borne his name.... The sadness of a lifetime weighed on his soul. He perceived that she shunned him by every means in her power. But they were bound to meet; and then across her face would flash the same look that he had seen at the foot of the companion-way; its supplication and abasement wrung him. Horrible as the continual meetings grew, in the reading-room, on deck, or below, their lines crossed a dozen times between breakfast and eleven o'clock at night. It became as torturous to Heriot as to her. He felt as if he had struck her, as he saw her whiten and shrink as he passed her by. Soon he hated himself for being here to cause her this intolerable pain. It was on the evening of the third day that her endurance broke down and she made her petition. With a pang he recognised the voice of her messenger before he turned. "Mrs. Baines!"