pertinent sailor
grinning at him from the rigging. Instantly his legs became rigid, and
he affected an interest in the horizon intended to convince the sailor
that he had been the victim of an optical illusion. Of course it was
quite beneath his dignity to take part in these rollicking dances,
especially in such a public place as on shipboard. He realized that
fully; yet he thought of Bobby and sighed. There were actually times in
his life when he almost wished he had been born in the middle class.

Then he drew himself up sharply. If there was one thing incumbent upon
the second son of the late Lord Westenhanger, it was that he maintain
his position. Though grievously disappointed in his failure to capture
the incomparable Lady Hortense, he must don his armor and ride forth
again to find another lady, differing in kind, perhaps, but not in
degree. In his scheme of things wild young daughters of American
sea-captains had no place whatever.

Yet even as he made this assertion he found himself moving toward the
companionway and down to the deck below.

"Will you sit out the next dance with me?" he heard himself murmuring to
Bobby over her partner's shoulder.

"You bet I will," said Bobby with a smile that made him forget the
awfulness of her language.

Ten minutes later they were leaning over the rail on the deserted
boat-deck, the wind full in their faces, watching the prow of the
steamer gently rise and fall as she sailed straight into the golden
heart of the sun. Up from the horizon spread wave after wave; of
perilous color, emerald melting into azure, crimson dying into rose.
There was just enough breeze to put a tiny feather on the windward slope
of the waves, and every white crest caught the glory.

"This is better than all the tangoing in the world," cried Bobby. "Have
you been up here all afternoon?"

"I have. You see, all those people below get rather on one's nerves."

"Do _I?_" she challenged him instantly.

"Not on one's nerves exactly," he said, thrillingly aware that her arm
was touching his on the railing and that the dangerous pink light was
playing over her face; "but I must say you do get on one's--one's mind!"

She laughed gaily.

"Well, that's next to having nothing on your mind. Say, you wouldn't
think I had the blues, would you?"

"Can't say I should."

"Well, I have. I've been so homesick all day that I could go round the
corner and cry if you--if you hadn't said I mustn't."

"What