e put hastily in his breast pocket and got up. He asked
her if her day, travelling up to town and then doing some shopping, had
tired her. She shook her head. Then he wanted to know in a half-jocular
way how she felt about going away, and for a long voyage this time.

"Does it matter how I feel?" she asked in a tone that cast a gloom over
his face. He answered with repressed violence which she did not expect:

"No, it does not matter, because I cannot go without you. I've told you
. . . You know it. You don't think I could."

"I assure you I haven't the slightest wish to evade my obligations," she
said steadily. "Even if I could. Even if I dared, even if I had to die
for it!"

He looked thunderstruck. They stood facing each other at the end of the
saloon. Anthony stuttered. "Oh no. You won't die. You don't mean it.
You have taken kindly to the sea."

She laughed, but she felt angry.

"No, I don't mean it. I tell you I don't mean to evade my obligations. I
shall live on . . . feeling a little crushed, nevertheless."

"Crushed!" he repeated. "What's crushing you?"

"Your magnanimity," she said sharply. But her voice was softened after a
time. "Yet I don't know. There is a perfection in it--do you understand
me, Roderick?--which makes it almost possible to bear."

He sighed, looked away, and remarked that it was time to put out the lamp
in the saloon. The permission was only till ten o'clock.

"But you needn't mind that so much in your cabin. Just see that the
curtains of the ports are drawn close and that's all. The steward might
have forgotten to do it. He lighted your reading lamp in there before he
went ashore for a last evening with his wife. I don't know if it was
wise to get rid of Mrs. Brown. You will have to look after yourself,
Flora."

He was quite anxious; but Flora as a matter of fact congratulated herself
on the absence of Mrs. Brown. No sooner had she closed the door of her
state-room than she murmured fervently, "Yes! Thank goodness, she is
gone." There would be no gentle knock, followed by her appearance with
her equivocal stare and the intolerable: "Can I do anything for you,
ma'am?" which poor Flora had learned to fear and hate more than any voice
or any words on board that ship--her only refuge from the world which had
no use for her, for her imperfections and for her troubles.

* * * * *

Mrs. Brown had been very much vexed at her dismissal. The Browns were a