titude her
heart opened to the memory of her unknown lover's tenderness and
understanding.

"Nothing can matter to me while I have Jim!" she told herself
thankfully, and fell asleep holding fast to the thought.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

Katrine's efforts to bring Bedford and Keith together seemed doomed to
failure. She managed the introduction indeed, but the attempts at
conversation which followed were not promising for future relationships,
and for the rest of the day the two men avoided each other sedulously.
It was duty, pure and simple, which made Katrine waylay Keith after
dinner, and appear to take it for granted that he would give her his
society for the customary half-hour's promenade round the deck, when in
reality her only longing was to escape, and enjoy a continuation of her
talk with the newer friend. Keith was in a black mood also; grim,
unsmiling. His haggard eyes surveyed her with a scrutiny that was the
reverse of friendly.

"Still busy at your Reform Bill, I see! I had no idea you could be so
persistent!"

"Don't be nasty!"

"Nasty!" he laughed harshly. "What a bread-and-butter Miss it is, with
her `nice' and `nasty,' and little cut-and-dried maxims and beliefs!
One can just see the English village where you have lived, and the
worthy Victorians who have lived around. You knew about six families in
all, I presume, and lived in terror of what they would say; and they
also lived in terror of you. There is no monarchy so absolute as the
Mrs Grundy of a country town. And you went on Sunday to the Church--
rather a low church I should say, breathing forth enmity equally against
ritualism and dissent--went twice a day--"

"_And_ Sunday School! Don't forget Sunday School."

"Ah! Sunday School. I'd forgotten the existence of Sunday Schools.
That revives old memories. I went to one myself in prehistoric times.
Seems odd, doesn't it? Can you imagine me a small, curled darling in a
Sunday School class? It was a dank, underground cellar of a place,
shaped like an amphitheatre, with seats rising one above another. We
infants sat bunched together in a corner, and the teacher stood before
us on the flat. She was a plain soul, with three large warts on one
cheek. I used to gaze at them fascinated, and ponder what could be
done. The warts interested me more than her words, but I made gallant
attempts at attention. We were bribed to attend,--one little card with
an illuminated text for go