folks in love were making sport of him. That Julius Marston's daughter
would descend to a yacht captain would have appeared as incredible an
enormity as an affair with the butler. But there was something about
this intimate companionship of the chart-room which Mr. Beveridge did
not relish. Instinct rather than any sane reason told him that he was
not wanted.

"I'm sorry to break in on your studies, Miss Marston," he said, a bit
stiffly. "But I have been sent by your father to call you to the cabin."
Mr. Beveridge's air, his tone of protest, conveyed rather pointed hint
that her responsibilities as a hostess were fully as important as her
studies as a navigator.

"I must go," she whispered.

Relief was mingled with Captain Mayo's regret. He had feared that this
impetuous young woman might rebel against the summons, even though the
word came from her father. And her persistent stay in his chart-room,
even on the pretext of a fervid interest in the mysteries of navigation,
might produce complications. This wonderful new joy in his life was too
precious to be marred by complications.

She trailed her fingers along his hand when she turned from the
chart-table, and then pinched him in farewell salute.

"Good night, Captain Mayo. I'll take another lesson to-morrow."

"I am at your service," he told her.

Their voices betrayed nothing, but Beveridge's keen eyes--the eyes which
had studied faces in the greatest game of all when fortunes were at
stake--noted the look they exchanged. It was long-drawn, as expressive
as a lingering kiss.

Mr. Beveridge, sanctioned in his courtship by Julius Marston, was not
especially worried by any inferences from that soft glance. He could not
blame even a coal-heaver who might stare tenderly at Miss Alma Marston,
for she was especially pleasing to the eye, and he enjoyed looking at
her himself. He was enough of a philosopher to be willing to have other
folks enjoy themselves and thereby give their approbation to his choice.
He excused Captain Mayo. As to Miss Marston, he viewed her frivolity as
he did that of the other girls whom he knew; they all had too much time
on their hands.

"Give the poor devils a chance, Alma. Don't tip 'em upside down," he
advised, testily, when she followed him down the ladder. He stood at the
foot and offered his hand, but she leaped down the last two steps and
did not accept his assistance. "Now, you have twisted that skipper of
ours until he doesn't kn