ly separate existences,
which was well, for knowing or guessing my share in our altered
arrangements, my husband had become even more morose than before, and no
conversation could be sustained between us.

He spent the greater part of his time in his state-room, grumbling at
the steward, abusing his valet, beating his bad-tempered terrier and
cursing the luck that had brought him on this senseless voyage.

More than ever now I felt the gulf that divided us. I could not pass one
single hour with him in comfort. My life was becoming as cold as an
empty house, and I was beginning to regret the eagerness with which I
had removed my husband from a scene in which he had at least lived the
life of a rational creature, when an unexpected event brought me a
thrill of passing pleasure.

Our seats in the saloon were at the top of the doctor's table, and the
doctor himself was a young Irishman of three or four-and-twenty, as
bright and breezy as a March morning and as racy of the soil as new-cut
peat.

Hearing that I was from Ellan he started me by asking if by chance I
knew Martin Conrad.

"Martin Conrad?" I repeated, feeling (I hardly knew why) as if a rosy
veil were falling over my face and neck.

"Yes, Mart Conrad, as we call him. The young man who has gone out as
doctor with Lieutenant ----'s expedition to the South Pole?"

A wave of tender feeling from my childhood came surging up to my throat
and I said:

"He was the first of my boy friends--in fact the only one."

The young doctor's eyes sparkled and he looked as if he wanted to throw
down his soup-spoon, jump up, and grasp me by both hands.

"God bless me, is that so?" he said.

It turned out that Martin and he had been friends at Dublin University.
They had worked together, "roomed" together, and taken their degrees at
the same time.

"So you know Mart? Lord alive, the way things come out!"

It was easy to see that Martin was not only his friend but his hero. He
talked of him with a passionate love and admiration with which men,
whatever they feel, rarely speak of each other.

Martin was the salt of the earth. He was the finest fellow and the
staunchest friend and the bravest-hearted chap that walked under the
stars of God.

"The greatest chum I have in the world, too, and by the holy Immaculate
Mother I'm destroyed at being away from him."

It was like music to hear him speak. A flood of joy went sweeping
through me at every word of praise he gave to