tened to assure her.

"You were indifferent to what I said?" she cried.

I rose to my feet and made her a bow of mock ceremony. My rest had put
me in heart again, and I was in a mood to be merry.

"Nay, madame," said I, "you know that I am your devoted servant, and
that all I have in the world is held at your disposal."

She looked sideways at me, then at the sea again.

"By heaven, it's true!" I cried. "All I have is yours. See!" I took out
my precious guinea, and bending on my knee with uncovered head presented
it to Mistress Barbara.

She turned her eyes down to it and sat regarding it for a moment.

"It's all I have, but it's yours," said I most humbly.

"Mine?"

"Most heartily."

She lifted it from my palm with finger and thumb very daintily, and,
before I knew what she was doing, or could have moved to hinder her if I
had the mind, she raised her arm over her head and with all her strength
flung the guinea into the sparkling waves.

"Heaven help us!" I cried.

"It was mine. That's what I chose to do with it," said Barbara.

CHAPTER XVIII

SOME MIGHTY SILLY BUSINESS

"In truth, madame," said I, "it's the wont of your sex. As soon as a
woman knows a thing to be hers entirely, she'll fling it away." With
this scrap of love's lore and youth's philosophy I turned my back on my
companion, and having walked to where the battered pasty lay beside the
empty jug sat down in high dudgeon. Barbara's eyes were set on the spot
where the guinea had been swallowed by the waves, and she took no heed
of my remark nor of my going.

Say that my pleasantry was misplaced, say that she was weary and
strained beyond her power, say what you will in excuse, I allow it all.
Yet it was not reason to fling my last guinea into the sea. A flash of
petulance is well enough and may become beauty as summer lightning decks
the sky, but fury is for termagants, and nought but fury could fling my
last guinea to the waves. The offence, if offence there were, was too
small for so monstrous an outburst. Well, if she would quarrel, I was
ready; I had no patience with such tricks; they weary a man of sense;
women serve their turn ill by using them. Also I had done her some small
service. I would die sooner than call it to her mind, but it would have
been a grace in her to remember it.

The afternoon came, grew to its height, and waned as I lay, back to sea
and face to cliff, thinking now of all that had passed, now of what was