It isn’t. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. She sought hastily in her mind for a plausible answer to an obvious question that didn’t come. I want to be myself. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. ‘That is settled then. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered.
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