sneered. "I gave her my promise
that I'd take her out there, and we'd have gone off on Wednesday quietly
enough, if you hadn't come and nosed the whole thing out with your
infernal dog. The fat's in the fire! There's no reason why I should
take her now. I'll come back to her a rich man, or not at all."

"And in the meantime?" I slipped in.

He turned to me, in an ingratiating way.

"I would have taken her to save the fuss--I really would--it's not my
fault the thing's come out. I'm on a risky job. To have her with me
might ruin the whole thing; it would affect my nerve. It isn't safe for
her."

"And what's her position to be," I said, "while you're away? Do you
think she'd have married you if she'd known you were going to leave her
like this? You ought to give up this business.

"You stole her. Her life's in your hands; she's only a child!"

A quiver passed over his face; it showed that he was suffering.

"Give it up!" I urged.

"My last farthing's in it," he sighed; "the chance of a lifetime."

He looked at me doubtfully, appealingly, as if for the first time in his
life he had been given a glimpse of that dilemma of consequences which
his nature never recognises. I thought he was going to give in.
Suddenly, to my horror, Dan growled, "Play the man!"

Pearse turned his head. "I don't want your advice anyway," he said;
"I'll not be dictated to."

"To your last day," said Dan, "you shall answer to me for the way you
treat her."

Zachary smiled.

"Do you see that fly?" he said. "Wel--I care for you as little as this,"
and he flicked the fly off his white trousers. "Good-morning...!"

The noble mariners who manned our boat pulled lustily for the shore, but
we had hardly shoved off' when a storm of rain burst over the ship, and
she seemed to vanish, leaving a picture on my eyes of the mate waving his
cap above the rail, with his tanned young face bent down at us, smiling,
keen, and friendly.

...... We reached the shore drenched, angry with ourselves, and with each
other; I started sulkily for home.

As I rode past an orchard, an apple, loosened by the rainstorm, came down
with a thud.

"The apples were ripe and ready to fall, Oh! heigh-ho! and ready to
fall."

I made up my mind to pack, and go away. But there's a strangeness, a
sort of haunting fascination in it all. To you, who don't know the
people, it may only seem a piece of rather sordid folly. But it isn't
the good, the obvious