The Washington herald., 1911-02-26
By HAROLD MacGRATH
Copyright lslo. me BO6bs-Mern Company,

want more than one man in the family,
and that's her foolish old father"
And they went outside, arm in arm,
laughing together like the good comrades
they were M. Ferraud Joined them. :
i wish" said he, that 1 was a poet. -
What would you do?" she asked.
I should write a sonnet to your eye
brows this morning, is it not?'
Mercy, no! That kind of poetry has
long been passe.'
! "Helasr' mournfully.
II was a beautiful morning a sharp
| blue sky and a sea of running silver:
warm, too, for they were bearing away
into the southern seas now. Every one
had sea legs by this time, and the larder
! dwindled in a respectable manner
Fitzgerald viewed his case dispassion-
ately. But what to do? A thousand
times he had argued out the question,
with single result, that he was a fool
for his pains. He became possessed with
sudden inexplicable longings for land.
| He could not get away from this yacht;
| on land there would have been a hun
dred straight lines to the woods and the
| fsherman's philosophy. Things were 60
| ing directly to one end, and presently he
| would have no more power to stem the
words At least one thing was certain
the admiral could not drop him over
PICARD.
The villain?''
He was moved suddenly out of his
dream, for the object of it stood smiling
at his side. A wisp of hair was blowing
| across her eyes and she was endeavoring
| 10 adjust it under her cap
The viIIain?'' making a fine effort to
remarshaI his thoughts
Yes We were talking about him last
night. Where did you leave him.
He was still pursuing, / believe"
why don't you make him a real vii
| lain. a man who never kills any one, but
who makes every one unhaPpy?''
But that is a problem-villain: what
kind every one is sorry for. Look atthat
| old Portuguese man-o'-war,'' pointing to
the crest of a nearby wave. Funny
! little codger!'
When do you expect to begin the story
on paper?''
When 1 have all the material" not
afra4L of her eyes at that moment
She propped her elbows on the rail. It
was a seductive pose, and came very
near being the young mans undoing.
Does it seem. impossible to you," she
said, that in these prosaic times we are
treasure hunting? Must we not wake up
and find il a dream?'
Most dreams are perishable, but in
this case we have the dream tightly
bound. But what are we going to do
With all this money when we find it?''
Divide it or start a soldiers home.
I've never thought of it as money"
Heaven knows, 1 haver'
''Why?"
DO you really wish to known in a
voice new to her ear. DO you wish to
know why I want money, lots and lots
of it,
She dropped her arms and turned. The
tone agitated and alarmed her strangely.
why, yes. With plenty of money you
could devote all your time to writing;
and I am sure you could write splendid
stories
That was not my exact thought" he
replied, resolutely pulling himself togeth-
er. But it will serve" By George. he
thought that was close enough.
She did not ask him what his exact
thought was, but she suspected it. There
was a little shock of pleasure and disap-
pointment: the one rising from the fact
that he had stopped where he did and the
other that he had not gone on. And she
grew angry over this second expression.
She liked him; she had never met a young
man whom she liked more. But liking is
never loving, and her heart was as free
and unburdened as the wind. AS once re-
marked, many of the men with whom
she had come into contact had been bred
in idleness, and her interest in them had
never gone above friendly tolerance Her
admiration was for men, young or old.
who cut their way roughly through the
worlds great obstacles, who achieved
things in pioneering in history in sci
ence; and she admired them because they
were rather difficult to draw out, being
more familiar with startling JOURNEYS,
wildernesses, strange peoples, than with
the gilded metaphors of the drawing
room.
And here were three of them to meet
daily, to study and to ponder over. And
types as far apart as the three points of
a triangle; the man at her side young,
witty, agreeable; Cathewe, grave, kindly,
and sometimes rather saturnine; Brett
mann. proud and reserved; and each of
them having run true in some great crisis
II ever she loved a man The
thought remained unfinished and she
glanced up and met Fftzgeralds eyes.
They were sad, with the line of a frown
above them. How was she to keep him
under hand, and still erect an impossible
barrier! 1t was the first time she had
given the matter serious thought. The
joy Of the sea underfoot. the tang of the
rushing air, the journeys end, these had
occupied her volatile young mind. But
now!
II am dull said he gloomily.
Thank you!''
Il mean that 1 am stupid, doubly stu
pid." he corrected
Cricket will be a cure for that"
81 doubt it, approaching dangerous
ground once more.
Lets go and talk to Capt Flanagan,
then"
''ThereH' with sudden spirit, ''the very
thing I've been wanting"
1t was Of no importance that they both
knew this to be a prevarication about
which St Peter would not trouble his
hoary head nor take the pains to indite
in his great book of demerits
But all through that bright day the girl
thought and there were times when the
others had to speak to her twice; not at
all reassuring sign.
CHAPTER XVIII.