out for
battle against the rest of the world. He had his way, in port and out
of it. He brooked no opposition, and delighted to carry, against his
captain's advice, more canvas than was wise when it blew heavily. But
the yacht, like a woman, seemed a creature of his will; to know no fear
when she felt his guiding hand, even though the green water ran in the
scuppers.

And every day anew she scanned his face, even as he scanned the face
of the waters. What was she searching for? To have so much is to become
miserly, to fear lest a grain of the precious store be lost. On the
second day they had anchored, for an hour or two, between the sandy
headlands of a small New England port, and she had stood on the deck
watching his receding figure under the flag of the gasoline launch as
it made its way towards the deserted wharves. Beyond the wharves was an
elm-arched village street, and above the verdure rose the white cupola
of the house of some prosperous sea-captain of bygone times. Honora had
not wished to go ashore. First he had begged, and then he had laughed as
he had leaped into the launch. She lay in a chaise longue, watching it
swinging idly at the dock.

The night before he had written letters and telegrams. Once he had
looked up at her as she sat with a book in her hand across the saloon,
and caught her eyes. She had been pretending not to watch him.

"Wedding announcements," he said.

And she had smiled back at him bravely. Such was the first
acknowledgment between them that the world existed.

"A little late," he observed, smiling in his turn as he changed his
pen, "but they'll have to make allowances for the exigencies of the
situation. And they've been after me to settle down for so many years
that they ought to be thankful to get them at all. I've told them that
after a decent period they may come to Grenoble--in the late autumn. We
don't want anybody before then, do we, Honora?"

"No," she said faintly; and added, "I shall always be satisfied with you
alone, Hugh."

He laughed happily, and presently she went up on deck and stood with her
face to the breeze. There were no sounds save the musical beat of the
water against the strakes, and the low hum of wind on the towering
vibrant sails. One moulten silver star stood out above all others. To
the northward, somewhere beyond the spot where sea and sky met in the
hidden kiss of night, was Newport,--were his relations and her friends.
What did they think? He