of."

"I will."

But she did not have to. For, at that moment, the miracle of wisdom
beside her sat up and pointed to the wet newspaper lying on the sand at
her feet.

"Has my happiness affected my wits?" he demanded. "Or does salt water
bring on delusions? Aren't those my initials?"

He was pointing to a paragraph in the "Personals" column of the New York
paper. This, being on one of the inner pages, had remained comparatively
dry and could be read. The particular "Personal" to which he pointed was
this:

"R. A. B." Wherever you are. This is to certify that I hereby
acknowledge that you have been absolutely correct in the A. D. matter;
witness news elsewhere. I was a fool, and I apologize publicly.
Incidentally I need a head like yours in my business. Come back.
Partnership awaiting you. Come back; and marry anybody or nobody as you
see fit.

"FATHER."

CHAPTER XVII

WOMAN-HATERS

"But what," asked Ruth, as they entered the bungalow together, "has
happened to Mr. Atkins, do you think? You say he went away yesterday
noon and you haven't seen him or even heard from him since. I should
think he would be afraid to leave the lights for so long a time. Has he
ever done it before?"

"No. And I'm certain he would not have done it this time of his own
accord. If he could have gotten back last night he would, storm or no
storm."

"But last night was pretty bad. And," quite seriously, "of course he
knew that you were here, and so everything would be all right."

"Oh, certainly," with sarcasm, "he would know that, of course. So long
as I am on deck, why come back at all? I'm afraid Atkins doesn't share
your faith in my transcendent ability, dear."

"Well," Miss Graham tossed her head, "I imagine he knew he could trust
you to attend to his old lighthouses."

"Perhaps. If so, his faith has developed wonderfully. He never has
trusted me even to light the lanterns. No, I'm afraid something has
happened--some accident. If the telephone was in working order I could
soon find out. As it is, I can only wait and try not to worry. By the
way, is your housekeeper--Mrs. What's-her-name--all serene after her wet
afternoon? When did she return?"

"She hasn't returned. I expected her last evening--she said she would be
back before dark--but she didn't come. That didn't trouble me; the storm
was so severe that I suppose she stayed in the village overnight."

"So you were alone all through the gale. I wondered if