e," I ordered. "Here, by my feet. You will
be below the rail there and out of the wind."

To my surprise she obeyed orders, this time without even a protest. I
smiled grimly. To see her obey suited my humor. It served her right. I
enjoyed ordering her about as if I were mate of an old-time clipper and
she a foremast hand. She had insulted me once too often and she should
pay for it. Out here social position and wealth and family pride counted
for nothing. Here I was absolute master of the situation and she
knew it. All her life she would remember it, the humiliation of being
absolutely dependent upon me for life and safety and warmth. I looked
down at her crouching at my feet, and then away over the black water.
The Comfort climbed wave after wave.

"Mr. Paine."

The tone was very low but I heard it.

I came out of my waking dream--it was not a pleasant one--and answered.

"Yes?" I said.

"Where are we?"

"We are making fair progress, everything considered. Are you warmer
now?"

"Yes--thank you."

She said no more, nor did I. Except for the splash of the spray and the
flapping of the loose ends of the tarpaulin, it was quiet aboard the
Comfort. Quiet, except for an odd sound in the shadow by my knee. I
stooped and listened.

"Miss Colton," I said, quickly. "What is it?"

No answer. Yet I heard the sound again.

"What is it, Miss Colton?" I repeated. "What is the matter? Why are you
crying?"

"I--I am NOT crying," indignantly. And on the very heels of the denial
came a stifled sob.

That sob went to my heart. A great lump rose in my own throat. My brain
seemed to be turning topsy-turvy. A moment before it had been filled
with bitterness and resentment and vengeful thoughts. Now these had
vanished and in their place came crowding other and vastly different
feelings. She was crying, sobbing there alone in the dark at my feet.
And I had treated her like a brute!

"Miss Colton," I pleaded, in an agony of repentance, "what is it? Is
there anything I can do? Are you still cold? Take this other coat, the
one I have on. I don't need it, really. I am quite warm."

"I am not cold."

"But--"

"Oh, please don't speak to me! PLEASE!"

I closed my lips tightly and clutched the wheel with both hands. Oh, I
had been a brute, a brute! I should have known that she was not herself,
that she was frightened and nervous and distraught. I should have been
considerate and forbearing. I should have remembered that she