r was empty, and Flower,
in place of exchanging glances with her, was walking about in a state
equally compounded, of wrath and bewilderment.

"And you had given up your berth in the City?" said Fraser, at length,
in concern.

The consciousness of a little colour in her cheek which she could not
repress affected Miss Tyrell's temper. "No," she said, sharply.

"Didn't you intend to go, then?" asked the bewildered Fraser.

"I--oh, will you give me my gloves, please, before I forget them?" said
Miss Tyrell, coldly.

It was Fraser's turn to colour, and he burnt a rich crimson as he fished
them out.

"I was going to take care of them for you," he said, awkwardly. "I came
to look after a pipe I thought I'd left here."

"I saw you taking care of them," was the reply.

There was a pause, during which Miss Tyrell took a seat and, folding her
hands in her lap, gazed at him with the calm gaze which comes of perfect
misdoing and the feminine determination not to own up to it. The room
was no longer shabby, and Fraser was conscious of a strange exaltation.

"I understood that you had given notice in the City," he said, slowly;
"but I'm very glad that you didn't."

Miss Tyrell shook her head, and stooping down adjusted the fire-stove
ornament.

"Didn't you intend to go?" repeated the tactful seaman.

"I'd left it open," said Miss Tyrell, thoughtfully; "I hadn't definitely
accepted Captain Martin's invitation. You jump at conclusions so, but of
course when I found that Captain Flower had shipped before the mast for
my sake, why, I _had_ to go."

"So you had," said Fraser, staring.

"There was no help for it," continued Miss Tyrell.

"Didn't seem like it," said the more accurate Fraser.

His head was in a whirl, and he tried vainly to think of the exact terms
in which she had announced her intention to emigrate, and combated the
objections which he thought himself justified in advancing. He began to
remember in a misty, un-certain fashion that they were somewhat vague
and disjointed, and for one brief moment he wondered whether she had
ever had any idea of going at all. One glance at the small figure of
probity opposite was enough, and he repelled the idea as unworthy.

"I believe that you are sorry I didn't go," said Poppy, suddenly.

"I'm sorry for Flower," said the other.

"He will be back in six or seven months," said Poppy, gently; "that will
soon pass away. I shall not be very old to marry even then. Perhap