l to howl about."

He said: "You're adrift. Do you know it?"

"Certainly I know it. Are you prepared to offer salvage? I'm past the
need of a pilot."

He smiled. "You haven't drifted very far yet--only as far as Mallett
Harbour. That's usually the first port--for derelicts. Anchors are
dropped rather frequently there--but, Rosalie, there's no safe mooring
except in the home port."

Her pretty, flushed face grew very serious as she looked up
questioningly.

"Isn't there an anchorage near you, Duane? Are you quite sure?"

"Why, no, dear, I'm not sure. But let me tell you something: it isn't in
me to love again. And that isn't square to you."

After a silence she repeated: "Again? Have you been in love?"

"Yes."

"Are you embittered? I thought only callow fledglings moped."

"If I were embittered I'd offer free anchorage to all comers. That's the
fledgling idea--when blighted--be a 'deevil among the weemin,'" he said,
laughing.

"You have that hospitable reputation now," she persisted, unsmiling.

"Have I? Judge for yourself then--because no woman I ever knew cares
anything for me now."

"You mean that if any of them had anything intimate to remember they'd
never remain indifferent?"

"Well--yes."

"They'd either hate you or remember you with a certain tenderness."

"Is that what happens?" he asked, amused.

"I think so," she said thoughtfully.... "As for what you said, you are
right, Duane; I am adrift.... You--or a man like you could easily board
me--take me in tow. I'm quite sure that something about me signals a
pilot; and that keen eyes and bitter tongues have noted it. And I don't
care. Nor do I know yet what my capabilities for evil are.... Do you
care to--find out?"

"It wouldn't be a square deal to you, Rosalie."

"And--if I don't care whether it's a square deal or not?"

"Why, dear," he said, covering her nervous, pretty hand with both of
his, "I'd break your heart in a week."

He laughed, dropped her fingers, stepped back to the door, and, laying
his hand on the knob, said evenly:

"That husband of yours is not the sort of man I particularly take to,
but I believe he's about the average if you'd care to make him so."

She coloured with surprise. Then something in her scornful eyes inspired
him with sudden intuition.

"As a matter of fact," he said lightly, "you care for him still."

"I can very easily prove the contrary," she said, walking slowly up to
him, close, closer, until t