her
Remsen cooler. These, with the lunch that would come in time, were
enough for her.

"But it was such a good chance!" I exclaimed in disappointment

"Chance for what, old man?"

"To see everything--the forts, the islands--and it's beautiful, you
know, all the way to the navy yard."

Beverly followed my glance to where the gay company was sitting among
the cracked ice, and bottles, and cigar boxes, chattering volubly, with
its back to the scenery. He gave his laisser-faire chuckle, and laid a
hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry 'em with forts and islands, old boy!
They know what they want. No living breed on earth knows better what it
wants."

"Well, they don't get it."

"Ho, don't they?"

"The cold fear of ennui gnaws at their vitals this minute."

Shrill laughter from Kitty and Gazza served to refute my theory.

"Of course, very few know what's the matter with them," I added. "You
seldom spot an organic disease at the start."

"Hm," said Beverly, lengthily. "You put a pin through some of 'em.
Hortense hasn't got the disease, though."

"Ah, she spotted it! She's taking treatment. It's likely to help
her--for a time."

He looked at me. "You know something."

I nodded. He looked at Hortense, who was now seated among the noisy
group with quiet John beside her. She was talking to Bohm, she had no
air of any special relation to John, but there was a lustre about her
that spoke well for the treatment.

"Then it's coming off?" said Beverly.

"She has been too much for him," I answered.

Beverly misunderstood. "He doesn't look it."

"That's what I mean."

"But the fool can cut loose!"

"Oh, you and I have gone over all that! I've even gone over it with
him."

Beverly looked at Hortense again. "And her fire-eater's fortune is about
double what it would have been. I don't see how she's going to square
herself with Charley."

"She'll wait till that's necessary. It isn't necessary to-day."

We had to drop our subject here, for the owner of the Hermana approached
us with the amiable purpose, I found, of making himself civil for a
while to me.

"I think you would have been interested to see the navy yard," I said to
him.

"I have seen it," Charley replied, in his slightly foreign, careful
voice. "It is not a navy yard. It is small politics and a big swamp. I
was not interested."

"Dear me!" I cried. "But surely it's going to be very fine!"

"Another gold brick sold to Uncle Sam." Charley's words