A WOMAN'S WILES From the ceiling of the cabin Lawler had suspended a spare blanket.

It hung between the two tiers of bunks, thus providing a certain privacy for both Miss Wharton and Lawler.
Lawler had been scrupulously considerate, and with a delicacy that must have earned her applause--had she been serious-minded--he had sought to seem unaware or indifferent to the many inevitable intimacies forced upon them by the nature of their association.
He knew, however, that the girl was secretly laughing at him.

Certain signs were convincing.

On the first night of their enforced joint occupancy of the cabin, she had silently watched him tack the blanket to the ceiling; and though she had said nothing, he had noted a gleam in her eyes which had made him wonder if he should not have waited until _she_ suggested it.
At other times he felt her gaze upon him--her eyes always glowing with the suggestion of silent mirth.

She seemed to be amused over the delicacy he exhibited--to be wondering at it.