moment.  He wondered why he always looked at her hair first.  It had a peculiarly pleasing effect on him.  He had been observant enough to know that she had rearranged it since breakfast, and the smooth coils twisted in mysterious intricacy at the crown of her head were like softly glowing velvet.  The ridiculous thought came to him that he would like to see them tumbling down about her.  They must be even more beautiful when freed from their bondage.

The pallor of her face was unusual.  Possibly it was the way the light fell upon her through the window.  But when she looked across at him again, he caught for an instant the tiniest quiver about her mouth.  He began telling her something about Skagway, quite carelessly, as if he had seen nothing which she might want to conceal.  The light in her eyes changed, and it was almost a glow of gratitude he caught in them.  He had broken a tension, relieved her of some unaccountable strain she was under.  He noticed that her ordering of food was merely a pretense.  She scarcely touched it, and yet he was sure no other person at the table had discovered the insincerity of her effort, not even Tucker, the enamored engineer.  It was likely Tucker placed a delicate halo about her lack of appetite, accepting daintiness of that sort as an angelic virtue.

Only Alan, sitting opposite her, guessed the truth.  She was making a splendid effort, but he felt that every nerve in her body was at the breaking-point.  When she arose from her seat, he thrust back his own chair.  At the same time he saw Rossland get up and advance rather hurriedly from the opposite side of the room.  The girl passed through the door first, Rossland followed a dozen steps behind, and Alan came last, almost shoulder to shoulder with Tucker.  It was amusing in a way, yet beyond the humor of it was something that drew a grim line about the corners of his mouth.

At the foot of the luxuriously carpeted stair leading from the dining salon to the main deck Miss Standish suddenly stopped and turned upon Rossland.  For only an instant her eyes were leveled at him.  Then they flashed past him, and with a swift movement she came toward Alan.  A flush had leaped into her cheeks, but there was no excitement in her voice when she spoke.  Yet it was distinct, and clearly heard by Rossland.

“I understand we are approaching Skagway, Mr. Holt,” she said.  “Will you take me on deck, and tell me about it?”

Graham’s agent had paused at the foot of the stair and was slowly preparing to light a cigarette.  Recalling his humiliation of a few hours before at Juneau, when the other had very clearly proved him a meddler, words refused to form quickly on Alan’s lips.  Before he was ready with an answer Mary Standish had confidently taken his arm.  He could see the red flush deepening in her upturned face.  She was amazingly unexpected, bewilderingly pretty, and as cool as ice except for the softly glowing fire in her cheeks.  He saw Rossland staring with his cigarette half poised.  It was instinctive for him to smile in the face of danger, and he smiled now, without speaking.  The girl laughed softly.  She gave his arm a gentle tug, and he found himself moving past Rossland, amazed but obedient, her eyes looking at him in a way that sent a gentle thrill through him.