finished.

"I--I think so," was the reply.

"It means," said the captain, biting his words--"it means that unless
Joan is married within three months, so as to be out of Robert Vyner's
way, you will be dismissed the firm. It saves the old man's pride a bit
putting it that way, and it's safer, too. And if Robert Vyner marries
her he will have to earn his own living. With luck he might get thirty
shillings a week."

"I know," said the other.

"Get her to town as soon as possible," continued the captain,
impressively. He paused a moment, and added with some feeling, "That's
what I'm going to do; I spoke to Mr. Vyner about it to-day. We will go
up together, and I'll look after her."

"I'll write to-night," said Hartley. "Not that it will make any
difference, so far as I can see."

"It's a step in the right direction, at any rate," retorted the captain.
"It keeps her out of young Vyner's way, and it shows John Vyner that
you are doing your best to meet his views, and it might make him realize
that you have got a little pride, too."

Partly to cheer Hartley up, and partly to avoid returning to Tranquil
Vale, he spent the evening with him, and, being deterred by the presence
of Miss Hartley from expressing his opinion of John Vyner, indulged
instead in a violent tirade against the tyranny of wealth. Lured on by
the highly interested Joan, he went still further, and in impassioned
words committed himself to the statement that all men were equal, and
should have equal rights, only hesitating when he discovered that she
had been an unwilling listener on an occasion when he had pointed out
to an offending seaman certain blemishes in his family tree. He then
changed the subject to the baneful practice of eavesdropping.

By the time he reached home it was quite late. There was no moon, but
the heavens were bright with stars. He stood outside for a few moments
listening to the sound of voices within, and then, moved perhaps by the
quiet beauty of the night, strolled down to the river and stood watching
the lights of passing craft. Midnight sounded in the distance as he
walked back.

The lamp was still burning, but the room was empty. He closed the door
softly behind him, and stood eying, with some uneasiness, a large and
untidy brown-paper parcel that stood in the centre of the table. From
the crumpled appearance of the paper and the clumsily tied knots it had
the appearance of having been opened and fastened up again by u