to secure the articles they most
fancied; Charley Kinraid was (so Philip thought) especially anxious
that the youngest and prettiest should be pleased. Hepburn watched
him perpetually with a kind of envy of his bright, courteous manner,
the natural gallantry of the sailor. If it were but clear that
Sylvia took as little thought of him as he did of her, to all
appearance, Philip could even have given him praise for manly good
looks, and a certain kind of geniality of disposition which made him
ready to smile pleasantly at all strangers, from babies upwards.

As the party turned to leave the shop they saw Philip, the guest of
the night before; and they came over to shake hands with him across
the counter; Kinraid's hand was proffered among the number. Last
night Philip could not have believed it possible that such a
demonstration of fellowship should have passed between them; and
perhaps there was a slight hesitation of manner on his part, for
some idea or remembrance crossed Kinraid's mind which brought a keen
searching glance into the eyes which for a moment were fastened on
Philip's face. In spite of himself, and during the very action of
hand-shaking, Philip felt a cloud come over his face, not altering
or moving his features, but taking light and peace out of his
countenance.

Molly Brunton began to say something, and he gladly turned to look
at her. She was asking him why he went away so early, for they had
kept it up for four hours after he left, and last of all, she added
(turning to Kinraid), her cousin Charley had danced a hornpipe among
the platters on the ground.

Philip hardly knew what he said in reply, the mention of that pas
seul lifted such a weight off his heart. He could smile now, after
his grave fashion, and would have shaken hands again with Kinraid
had it been required; for it seemed to him that no one, caring ever
so little in the way that he did for Sylvia, could have borne four
mortal hours of a company where she had been, and was not; least of
all could have danced a hornpipe, either from gaiety of heart, or
even out of complaisance. He felt as if the yearning after the
absent one would have been a weight to his legs, as well as to his
spirit; and he imagined that all men were like himself.

CHAPTER XIV

PARTNERSHIP

As darkness closed in, and the New Year's throng became scarce,
Philip's hesitation about accompanying Coulson faded away. He was
more comfortable respecting Sylvia