But he couldn't very well turn tail and bolt off the poop.

He had come there on duty.
So, still with downcast eyes, he made his way past them.

Only when he got as far as the wheel-grating did he look up.

She was hidden from him by the back of her deck-chair; but he had the view of the owner of the thin, aged legs seated on the skylight, his clean-shaved cheek, his thin compressed mouth with a hollow in each corner, the sparse grey locks escaping from under the tweed cap, and curling slightly on the collar of the coat.

He leaned forward a little over Mrs.Anthony, but they were not talking.