eaceful!" said Saltash, and stopped to caress the old
dog with a gentle hand. "Do you know, Maud, it's a good thing you never
married me if this sort of thing makes you happy."

She smiled her quiet, contented smile. "I think it is a good thing too,
Charlie. It certainly would never have satisfied you."

"Nothing does," he declared restlessly. "I'm a wanderer on the face of
the earth, and I don't pick up much as I go along. I'm getting old, you
know. Life isn't what it was."

Maud was silent for a few moments, the starlight in her eyes. "I
sometimes wonder," she said at length, "if you have ever really lived
yet."

He laughed on a mocking note. "My dear girl, I--who have done
everything!"

She shook her head. "No, not everything, Charlie."

"Everything that's bad," he suggested recklessly.

She put out a hand to him that went into his quick hold and lay there
with perfect confidence. "I don't think you're really old," she said. "I
think you're just beginning to grow up. No, don't laugh! I am quite
serious. You are just beginning to discriminate between the things that
are worth while and those that are not."

"Is anything worth while?" said Saltash.

"Yes, yes. Heaps of things. But not the things you care for,--not just
the wild pleasures of life. Charlie, I'm not good at expressing things,
and I'm afraid--just a little--of trespassing, even though we are such
old friends."

Her voice had a wistful note. He carried her hand to his lips. "_Ma belle
reine_, is it possible? You?"

Her fingers closed upon his. "I hate you to be world-tired and lonely.
But I would rather have you that than feeding on husks."

"I'm not doing that at the present moment," he said. "I'm living like a
beastly hermit--except that I cut my nails and brush my hair
occasionally. You've heard about the woman on the yacht, of course?"

Her silence answered him, and he laughed again.

"A lie, _chere reine_! There was no woman."

"Oh, Charlie!" she said impulsively. "Forgive me for believing it!"

He made a royal gesture. "I forgive you. Moreover, the lie was
not without foundation. There was a child on board of the female
species,--very small and badly frightened. We saved her between us,
Larpent and I. She belongs to Larpent--not to me."

"You mean she is his daughter?" questioned Maud.

"That is exactly what I mean. Dull explanation, isn't it? Larpent was
badly damaged. He is undergoing repairs in a nursing home, and the
child-