n.

"So you wish me to go away?"

"I cannot see any use in your staying," she replied, "after what you
have said. I--cannot see," she added in a low voice, "that for you to
remain would be to promote the happiness of--either of us. You should
have gone to-day."

"You care!" he exclaimed.

"It is because I do not wish to care that I tell you to go--"

"And you refuse happiness?"

"It could be happiness for neither of us," said Honora. "The situation
would be impossible. You are not a man who would be satisfied with
moderation. You would insist upon having all. And you do not know what
you are asking."

"I know that I want you," he said, "and that my life is won or lost with
or without you."

"You have no right to say such a thing."

"We have each of us but one life to live."

"And one life to ruin," she answered. "See, you are running on the
rocks!"

He swung the boat around.

"Others have rebuilt upon ruins," he declared.

She smiled at him.

"But you are taking my ruins for granted," she said. "You would make
them first."

He relapsed into silence again. The Folly needed watching. Once he
turned and spoke her name, and she did not rebuke him.

"Women have a clearer vision of the future than men," she began
presently, "and I know you better than you know yourself. What--what
you desire would not mend your life, but break it utterly. I am speaking
plainly. As I have told you, you interest me; so far that is the extent
of my feelings. I do not know whether they would go any farther, but on
your account as well as my own I will not take the risk. We have come to
an impasse. I am sorry. I wish we might have been friends, but what you
have said makes it impossible. There is only one thing to do, and that
is for you to go away."

He eased off his sheet, rounded the fort, and set a course for the
moorings. The sun hung red above the silhouetted roofs of Conanicut,
and a quaint tower in the shape of a minaret stood forth to cap the
illusions of a day.

The wind was falling, the harbour quieting for the night, and across the
waters, to the tones of a trumpet, the red bars of the battleship's flag
fluttered to the deck. The Folly, making a wide circle, shot into the
breeze, and ended by gliding gently up to the buoy.

CHAPTER V. THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST

It was Saturday morning, but Honora had forgotten the fact. Not until
she was on the bottom step did the odour of cigarettes reach her and
t