She shrank from Nina as she would have shrunk from the sharp blade of a knife cutting into her flesh, but she kept on visiting the brig to feed her dumb, ignorant soul on her own despair.

She saw Dain many times.

He never spoke, he never looked.

Could his eyes see only one woman's image?
Could his ears hear only one woman's voice?
He never noticed her; not once.
And then he went away.

She saw him and Nina for the last time on that morning when Babalatchi, while visiting his fish baskets, had his suspicions of the white man's daughter's love affair with Dain confirmed beyond the shadow of doubt.