aftiness for the forwarding of a single
idea became uncanny in its purposeful efficiency and a morbid pleasure
to its possessor. Eben seemed outwardly to have lain aside his
strait-jacket of bigotry and to have become singularly humanized.

One afternoon Stuart and Conscience went for an all-day sail. The
husband had promised to accompany them, but at the last moment pleaded
an excuse. It was in his plan to continue his seeming of entire
trustfulness--and nothing better furthered that attitude than sending
them away together in the close companionship of a sail boat--while, in
reality, the presence of Ira Forman, tending tiller and sheet, was as
effective as the watchfulness of a duenna or the guardianship of a
harem's chief eunuch.

Ira Forman rose from his task of packing the luncheon paraphernalia on
the white beach near a life-saving station. He had regaled them as they
picniced with narratives of shipwreck and tempest, swelling with the
prideful importance of a singer of sagas. Now he bit into a plug which
looked like a chunk of black cake and spat into the sand.

"See that boat over yon in the norrer channal? You wouldn't never
suspicion that a one-armed man was sailin' her now, would you?"

"No!" Stuart spoke with the rising inflection of a flattering interest.
"Has he only one arm?"

Ira's nod was solemnly affirmative. "He shot the other one off oncet
while he was a-gunnin' and, in a manner of speakin', it was the makin'
of him. Until he lost his right hand an' had to figure out methods of
doin' double shift with the left, he wasn't half as smart as what he is
now. In a manner of speakin' it made a man of him."

The amused glance which flashed between Conscience and her companion at
this bit of philosophy was quickly stifled as they recognized the
gravity which sat upon the face of its enunciator, and Stuart inquired
in all seriousness, "But how does he manage it? There's mains'l and jib
and tiller--not to mention center board and boom-crotch--and sometimes
the reef-points."

The boatman nodded emphatically. "But he does it though. He's educated
his feet an' his teeth to do things God never meant 'em to." Then in a
voice of naive emphasis he demanded, "Did either one of you ever lose
anything that belonged to you? I mean somethin' that was a part of
yourselves--somethin' that was just tore out by the roots, like?"

Stuart wondered uneasily if the stiffness of his expression was not a
thing which Conscie