her to alight. "You must be
exhausted."

"If it were only that!" she replied, with a slight smile. "And is it
too early to ask where we are going?"

The prince turned quickly at the question.

"We take the _Lusitania_ for Liverpool at ten o'clock," said Mr. Grimm
obligingly. "Meanwhile let's get some coffee and a bite to eat."

"Are you going to make the trip with us?" asked the prince.

Mr. Grimm shrugged his shoulders.

Weary and spiritless they went aboard the boat, and a little while later
they steamed out into the stream and threaded their way down the bay.
Miss Thorne stood at the rail gazing back upon the city they were
leaving. Mr. Grimm stood beside her; the prince, still sullen, still
scowling, sat a dozen feet away.

"This is a wonderful thing you have done, Mr. Grimm," said Miss Thorne
at last.

"Thank you," he said simply. "It was a destructive thing that you
intended to do. Did you ever see a more marvelous thing than that?" and
he indicated the sky-line of New York. "It's the most marvelous bit of
mechanism in the world; the dynamo of the western hemisphere. You would
have destroyed it, because in the world-war that would have been the
first point of attack."

She raised her eyebrows, but was silent.

"Somehow," he went on after a moment, "I could never associate a woman
with destructiveness, with wars and with violence."

"That is an unjust way of saying it," she interposed. And then,
musingly: "Isn't it odd that you and I--standing here by the rail--have,
in a way, held the destinies of the whole great earth in our hands? And
now your remark makes me feel that you alone have stood for peace and
the general good, and I for destruction and evil."

"I didn't mean that," Mr. Grimm said quickly. "You have done your duty
as you saw it, and--"

"Failed!" she interrupted.

"And I have done my duty as I saw it."

"And won!" she added. She smiled a little sadly. "I think, perhaps you
and I might have been excellent friends if it had not been for all
this."

"I know we should have," said Mr. Grimm, almost eagerly. "I wonder if
you will ever forgive me for--for--?"

"Forgive you?" she repeated. "There is nothing to forgive. One must do
one's duty. But I wish it could have been otherwise."

The Statue of Liberty slid by, and Governor's Island and Fort Hamilton;
then, in the distance, Sandy Hook light came into view.

"I'm going to leave you here," said Mr. Grimm, and for the first time
ther