He would, at least, have glanced at strangers.
"Hello, Mr.Ridge, going below ?" called Veath.
"I'm going wherever the ship goes," came the sullen reply.
"Hope _she's_ not going below," laughed the disturber.
"It's my only hope," was the bitter retort from the companionway.
"He's certainly in love, Miss Ridge.

Men don't have the blues like that unless there's a woman in the case.

I think you'd better talk to your brother.

Tell him she'll be true, and if she isn't, convince him that there are just as good fish in the sea.

Poor fellow, I suppose he thinks she's the only woman on earth," commented Mr.Veath, with mock solemnity.
"She may be as much at sea as he," she said,--and very truthfully.
"Well, if love dies, there is a consolation in knowing that the sea casts up its dead," was his sage, though ill-timed remark.
Grace slept but little that night, and went early to breakfast in the hope that she might see Hugh alone.