Bert's my cousin," she answered. "He's English right through. You'd like
Bert. He's in the smoke-room. Bert and I are great chums."

"Are you staying here alone together?" Merefleet enquired.

She nodded. "Bert is taking care of me," she explained. "He's like a son
to me. I call him my English bull-dog. I just love bull-dogs, Mr.
Merefleet."

Merefleet was silent.

She stretched out her arms with a swift, unconscious movement of
weariness.

"Well," she said, "I'm real lazy to-night, and that's fact. I guess you
want to smoke, so I'll go and leave you in peace."

She rose and stood for a few moments in the doorway, looking out into the
pulsing darkness beyond. Merefleet watched her, fascinated. And as he
watched, a deep shadow rose and lingered on the beautiful face. Moved by
an instinct he did not stop to question, he rose abruptly and stood
beside her. There was a pause. Then suddenly she looked up at him and the
shadow was gone.

"Isn't he cross?" she said.

"Who?" asked Merefleet.

"Why, that funny old sea," she laughed. "He's just wild to dash over and
swamp us all. Supposing he did, should you care any?"

"I don't know," said Merefleet.

Her eyes were full of a soft laughter as she looked at him. Suddenly she
laid a childish hand on his arm. "Oh, you poor old Bear!" she said,
dropping her voice a little. "I'm real sorry for you!"

And then she turned swiftly and was gone from his side like a flash of
sunlight.

CHAPTER IV

It was some time later that Merefleet entered the smoking-room to satisfy
a certain curiosity which had taken possession of him. He looked round
the room as he sat down, and almost at once his attention lighted upon a
broad-shouldered man of about thirty with a plain, square-jawed face of
great determination, who sat, puffing at a short pipe, by the open
window.

Merefleet silently observed this man for some time, till, his scrutiny
making itself felt, the object of it wheeled abruptly in his chair and
returned it.

Merefleet leant forward. It was so little his custom to open conversation
with a stranger that his manner was abrupt and somewhat forced on this
unusual occasion.

"I believe I ought to know you," he said. "But I can't recall your name."

The reply was delivered in a manner as curt as his own. "My name is
Seton," said the stranger. "As you have only met me once before, you
probably won't recall it now."

Merefleet nodded comprehension. He loved the st