her
little heart beat after Richard's straining sails. Then there was the
strangeness of walking with a relative of Richard's, one who had lived
by his side so long. And the thought that perhaps this night she would
have to appear before the dreaded father of her husband.

"O Mr. Harley!" she said, "is it true--are we to go tonight? And me,"
she faltered, "will he see me?"

"Ah! that is what I wanted to talk to you about," said Adrian. "I made
some reply to our dear boy which he has slightly misinterpreted. Our
second person plural is liable to misconstruction by an ardent mind. I
said 'see you,' and he supposed--now, Mrs. Richard, I am sure you will
understand me. Just at present perhaps it would be advisable--when the
father and son have settled their accounts, the daughter-in-law can't be
a debtor."...

Lucy threw up her blue eyes. A half-cowardly delight at the chance of a
respite from the awful interview made her quickly apprehensive.

"O Mr. Harley! you think he should go alone first?"

"Well, that is my notion. But the fact is, he is such an excellent
husband that I fancy it will require more than a man's power of
persuasion to get him to go."

"But I will persuade him, Mr. Harley." "Perhaps, if you would..."

"There is nothing I would not do for his happiness," murmured Lucy.

The wise youth pressed her hand with lymphatic approbation. They walked
on till the yachts had rounded the point.

"Is it to-night, Mr. Harley?" she asked with some trouble in her voice
now that her darling was out of sight.

"I don't imagine your eloquence even will get him to leave you
to-night," Adrian replied gallantly. "Besides, I must speak for myself.
To achieve the passage to an island is enough for one day. No necessity
exists for any hurry, except in the brain of that impetuous boy. You
must correct it, Mrs. Richard. Men are made to be managed, and women are
born managers. Now, if you were to let him know that you don't want to
go to-night, and let him guess, after a day or two, that you would very
much rather... you might affect a peculiar repugnance. By taking it on
yourself, you see, this wild young man will not require such frightful
efforts of persuasion. Both his father and he are exceedingly delicate
subjects, and his father unfortunately is not in a position to be
managed directly. It's a strange office to propose to you, but it
appears to devolve upon you to manage the father through the son.
Prodigal having