The Washington times., 1913-07-28
CHAPTER XXvI-(Continued).

-f@ 70; 1 heard the name Lavelle. -
Just as distinctly as that. ]
was shocked. I stole In very
softly and stood beside him.
His eyes were closed. but he kept num-
bling: That night at Apia-'"
"Apia? Apia?' Paul repeated with in
terest. Yes. GO on. What else did he
say?"
That was as far as he seemed able
to get. 1 thought he was trying to go
over some off-told story. At last he
sank back in exhaustion. I did not
dare to speak to him. He has slept ever
since, and his fever Is down. What is
Apia. Where is It? What do you think
he meant?'
"Apia is the Samoan Islands. My
father was lost there twenty-five years
ago in a hurricane, which trapped three
naval squadrons. He was about my
age at the time. Only a little while
ago mother wrote me that a photograph
l sent her might have been father s.
This old fellow must have served un-
der him. He mistook me for him when
he saw me so Unexpectedly in the door
way. This explains II. The way he
attempted to salute when he saw me
made me think he was a man-o'-war's s
man."
A strange, unreasonable hope which
had sprung into Emily's heart died.
The sea plays strange pranks,
doesn't 1t, my friend? Paul asked af-
ter a pause. The question drew Emily
gaze back from the satiny-blue deep.
His manner Of address chilled her. My
friend? My friend?'" her brain echoed.
He averted his gaze sadly.
Yes" she assented. 1T does play
strange pranks."
In the word a meaning was veiled
that did not reach him. She was think
ing OF the barrier that had been build
ing itself between them all day. No
sooner did one wall go down thar
another rose in its place. Strangely as
she watched him staring over the deep
10 the southward feeling OF contri-
uon filled her. With the truest SYM
pathy she said:
Il am sorry. Perhaps I shouldn't
have told you what this man said. II
has stirred unpleasant memories-sad
ones"
No. The finest memory I have is my
father-the finest memory any son ever
had"
AS he spoke he seemed to 60 still
further away from her. In silence she
watched him go into the lounge and
return to the deck with his scxtant. He
took an observation of Polaris, and then
went into the charitable to work II
out. With feeling akin to shame En-
lily sensed that he did not wish her near
him, and she started below
We should try to get as much sleep
as possible while this calm lasts"
He said this coldly and without look
ing up from the book from which he
was taking a set OF logarithms.
II know-I understand she answered.
fighting for control OF herself.
"A breeze may come at any time, and
we'll need every bit of strength we can
muster to work the ship"
The gold woman could stand the IN
certainty no longer.
Paul. tell me frankly, have I done
or said anything to hurt you? What Is
is? What l said down. there in the
strangers room-is II that?'
The words were no sooner away from
her lips than anger at herself swept
her. Where was her pride?
NO, no. OF course. you have not
said anything. or course not AIS
well. little woman" His answer came
quickly. but not without an embarrass-
ment that she failed to understand. He
bent his head over his work again.
Don't forget you are to call me at the
first sign of a breeze. and, anyway. not
later than II 30 o'clock"
They had planned at dinner that she
was to keep the watch for the first
part of the night.
mo. I sha'n't forget" she answered
bravely. and groped down the compan-
ion-wav from his sight. Nor did she
over dream what pain II cost the lonely
man at the chart table to let her &c
from him.