"
"You might just leave a little of each for Sundays!" suggested the young
girl.
"Beatrice!" exclaimed her mother.
CHAPTER VI.
While the little party sat at table, the sailors gathered together at a
distance among the rocks, and presently the strong red light of their
fire shot up through the shadows, lending new contrasts to the scene.
And there they slung their kettle on an oar and patiently waited for the
water to boil, while the man known as the Gull, always cook in every
crew in which he chanced to find himself, sat with the salt on one side
of him and a big bundle of macaroni on the other, prepared to begin
operations at any moment.
Ruggiero stood a little apart, his back against a boulder, his arms
crossed and his eyes fixed on Beatrice's face. His keen sight could
distinguish the changing play of her expression as readily at that
distance as though he had been standing beside her, and he tried to
catch the words she spoke, listening with a sort of hurt envy to the
little silvery laugh that now and then echoed across the open space and
lost itself in the crannies of the rocks.
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