the white yacht _Laura_, formally
bowing to one another, or tossing their noses impudently; and, far
away, was the following trail of brown smoke from some ship which had
dropped down the horizon.

Fitzgerald, stood silent, musing, at the girl's side. He was fond of
vistas. There was rest in them, a peace not to be found even in the
twilight caverns of cathedrals; wind blowing over waters, the flutter
of leaves, the bend in the grasses. To dwell in a haven like this. No
care, no worry, no bother of grubbing about in one's pockets for
overlooked coins, no flush of excitement! It is, after all, the
homeless man who answers quickest the beckon of wanderlust. It is only
when he comes into the shelter of such a roof that he draws into his
heart the bitter truth of his loneliness.

"You must think me an odd girl."

"Pray why?"

"By the manner in which I brought you here."

"On the contrary, you are one of the few women I ever met who know
something about scoring a good joke. Didn't your friend, Mrs.
Coldfield, know my mother; and wasn't your father a great friend of my
father's? As for being odd, what about me? I believe I stood on the
corner, and tried to sell plaster casts, just to win a foolish club
wager."

"Men can jest that way with impunity, but a woman may not. Still, I
really couldn't help acting the way I did," with a tinkle in her voice
and a twinkle in her eyes.

"Convention is made up of many idiotic laws. Why we feel obliged to
obey is beyond offhand study. Of course, the main block is sensible;
it holds humanity together. It's the irritating, burr-like amendments
that one rages against. It's the same in politics. Some clear-headed
fellow gets up and makes a just law. His enemies and his friends alike
realize that if the law isn't passed there will be a roar from the
public. So they pass the bill with amendments. In other words, they
kill its usefulness. I suppose that's why I am always happy to leave
convention behind, to be sent to the middle of Africa, to Patagonia, or
sign an agreement to go to the North Pole."

"The North Pole? Have you been to the Arctic?"

"No; but I expect to go up in June with an Italian explorer."

"Isn't it terribly lonely up there?"

"It can't be worse than the Sahara or our own Death Valley. One
extreme is as bad as the other. Some time I hope your father will take
me along on one of those treasure hunts. I should like to be in at the
finding o