wkward motion he
drew from his pocket the little glazed paper box that contained the
engagement-ring.

"Please," he said, "I want you to take this again." He was in
earnest.

"It's strange Elsa Mallaby should be able to tell mother things about
you."

Nat lost his patience. He had tried his best to make peace, and the
girl was only baiting him for her own amusement.

"What the deuce is all this about that Mallaby woman?" he asked. "I
should think you'd listen to me, Nellie."

"If you will listen to me first, then I'll listen to you as long as
you like."

"I agree," he said, thrusting the ring-box back into his pocket, "only
make it short, will you, little girl?"

"Yes, I will," she promised, without smiling. "I merely said that
mother and Mrs. Mallaby had discussed you and me, and our marriage,
and that Mrs. Mallaby had said some things about you."

"Well, lots of people do that," he smiled.

"Yes--but they haven't said just this thing, Nat."

"What was that?"

"I'm going to let you think. Just suppose that Mrs. Mallaby hated you
very much and wanted to do you harm. What would she tell my mother?"

The girl, pale and on the verge of an hysterical outburst, watched his
face out of her mask of self-control.

The blood beneath his tan receded and was replaced by a sickly
greenish hue. That flash had brought its memory--a memory that had
lain buried beneath the events of his later life. Did she know? How
could she know?

To the girl watching him there was confirmation enough. She was
suddenly filled with inexpressible distaste for this man who had in
days past smothered her with caresses and dinned into her ears
speeches concerning a passion that he called love.

"I see it is all true," she said quietly. "This is all I have to say.
Now I will listen to what you were going to tell me a few minutes
ago--that is, if you still wish to say it."

Nat read his doom in those few calm words. The things that had been in
his mind to say rose and choked his throat; the thought of the ring in
his pocket seemed like profanation. He gulped twice and tried to
speak, but the words clotted on his tongue.

Still she sat quietly looking at him, politely ready to listen.

With a horrible croaking sound he got to his feet, looked irresolutely
at her for a moment, and then went to the side where his dory lay. She
next saw him rowing dazedly to the _Nettle B._, and then she turned
her face from the sight of him.

And sud