cted that if it were
her lot in life to be a maid, she would choose to live on the Continent,
where an affectionate intimacy takes the place of this frigid
separation, and then, being young and self-engrossed, promptly forgot
all about them, and fell to building castles in the air, in which she
herself lived in every circumstance of affluence and plenty, beloved and
admired of all. There was naturally a prince in the story, a veritable
Prince Charming, who was all that the most exacting mind could desire,
but the image was vague. Claire's heart had not yet been touched. She
was still in ignorance as to what manner of man she desired.

Engaged in these pleasant day-dreams Antwerp was reached before Claire
realised that half the distance was covered. On the quay the wind blew
chill; on the boat itself it blew chillier still. Claire became aware
that she was in for a stormy crossing, but was little perturbed by the
fact, since she knew herself to be an unusually good sailor. She tipped
the stewardess to fill a hot bottle, put on a cosy dressing-jacket, and
lay down in her berth, quite ready for sleep after the fatigue and
excitement of the past week.

In five minutes the ship and all that was in it was lost in dreams, and,
so far as Claire was concerned, it might have been but another five
minutes before the stewardess aroused her to announce the arrival at
Parkeston Pier. The first glance around proved, however, that the other
passengers had found the time all too long. The signs of a bad crossing
were written large on the faces of her companions, and there was a trace
of resentment in the manner in which they surveyed her active movements.
An old lady in a bunk immediately opposite her own seemed especially
injured, and did not hesitate to put her feelings into words, "_You_
have had a good enough night! I believe you slept right through... Are
you aware that the rest of us have been more ill than we've ever been in
our lives?" she asked in accusing tones. And Claire laughed her happy,
gurgling little laugh, and said--

"I'm _so_ sorry, but it's all over, isn't it? And people always say
that they feel better afterwards!"

The old lady grunted. She certainly looked thoroughly ill and wretched
at the moment, her face drawn and yellow beneath her scanty locks, and
her whole appearance expressive of an extremity of fatigue. It seemed
to her that it was years since she had left the quay at Antwerp, and
here