"I don't suppose there's anything to be done about it, unless we pass out a plate." Mr.Kenby shook his head.

"It wouldn't do.

We might send for the captain.

Or the chief steward." The faces at the port vanished.

At other ports profiles passed and repassed, as if the steerage passengers had their promenade under them, but they paused no more.
The Marches went up to their steamer chairs, and from her exasperated nerves Mrs.March denounced the arrangement of the ship which had made such a cruel thing possible.
"Oh," he mocked, "they had probably had a good substantial meal of their own, and the scene of our banquet was of the quality of a picture, a purely aesthetic treat.