The young woman who made this remark was standing on the deck of an out-going ocean steamer. The great boat was ploughing its way through the Ambrose channel, leaving the long nose of Sandy Hook a thin line of white on one side. Fading away into the background like dim gray ghosts were the giant towers of New York City. The speaker was wearing a long, gray traveling coat with a blue lining, and a felt hat of the same colors rested close against her ash-brown hair. Immediately three girls turned to face her. The minute before they had been leaning against the ship's railing. One of them revealed a suspicion of tears in her curiously dark eyes; the second had her lips shut unnecessarily tight…
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