rcle gathered about Ben Bradford,
who stood with the steaming coffee-pot in one hand, and a tin dipper
in the other. Nectar and ambrosia, served from jewelled plate, could
not have offered more temptation to the appetite of the weary group.
Flint, lying a little apart, was conscious that Leonard Davitt was
standing beside him, staring down into his face. As the young
fisherman turned away, Flint heard him say, below his breath: "Damn
him!"

CHAPTER IX

NORA COSTELLO

"We pass through life separated from many people as by a wall of glass.
We see them, we are conscious of their presence; but we never touch."

The evening following the wreck of "The Mary Ann" found the friends in
council, who included most of the summer population of Nepaug,
gathered around the White-House hearth, on which blazed a hospitable
fire, doubly cheering in its radiant contrast to the gathering
darkness without. The wind, which had risen to half a gale, rattled at
the window panes and roared down the chimney. The sound of the booming
surf, as the great waves hurled themselves against the dunes, made
itself heard, even through the heavy pine doors and shutters. The
foam, which yesterday curved in lines of delicate spray below the
headland, was now lashed into a lather of white terror. Above it
through the twilight rose, dim and ghostlike, the masts of the
wrecked vessel.

The dreariness outside lent an added charm to the snug and cheerful
cosiness within the little parlor, the inmates of which drew closer
than usual, as they talked in somewhat subdued voices.

Jimmy Anstice lay on his back upon the hearth-rug, his head pillowed
upon Paddy, and his knees braced one on top of the other. Ben Bradford
sat on a chair tipped back against the wall, with his thumbs thrust
through the armholes of his corduroy vest. Winifred lounged upon the
haircloth sofa with one foot surreptitiously tucked under her. Every
one's attitude suggested a degree of comfort rare in society. A
wonderful sense of intimacy is imparted by perils undergone together,
or profound experiences shared. They seem to sweep away, as with a
whirlwind breath, that thick veil of convention and commonplace which
shroud many acquaintances from beginning to end. At these times the
real nature has shown itself, as it does only in the great crises of
life; and, once revealed, it can never wholly conceal itself again.

At t