ng about his taking the wheel and he thought he had better
oblige the old fellow, if Audrey was quite, quite sure she didn't mind, and
would she come and sit by him instead--for one dance? ... As soon as two
sailors had fixed cushions for Audrey, and the skipper had given the owner
the course, all persons seemed to withdraw respectfully from the pair, who
were in the shadow of a great spar, with the glimmer of the binnacle just
in front of them. The square sail had been lowered, and the engines
started, and a steady, faint throb kept the yacht mysteriously alive in
every plank of her. The gramophone and the shuffle of feet continued,
because Mr. Gilman had expressly desired that his momentary defection with
a lady and in obedience to duty should not bring the ball to an end.
Laughter and even giggles came from the ballroom. Males were dancing
together. The power of the moon had increased. The binnacle-light, however,
threw up a radiance of its own on to Mr. Gilman's lowered face, the face of
a kind, a good, and a dependably expert individuality who was watching over
the safety, the welfare and the highest interests of every soul on board.

"I was very sorry to be laid up to-day," Mr. Gilman began suddenly, in a
very quiet voice, frowning benevolently at the black pointer on the
compass. "But, of course, you know my great enemy."

"No, I don't," said Audrey gently.

"Hasn't Doc told you?"

"Doctor Cromarty? No, he doesn't tell much."

"Well," said Mr. Gilman, looking round quickly and shyly, rather in the
manner of a boy, "it's liver."

Audrey seemed to read in his face, first, that Doctor Cromarty had received
secret orders never to tell anybody anything, and, second, that the great
enemy was not liver. And she thought: "So this is human nature! Mature
men, wise men, dignified men, do descend to these paltry deceits just in
order to keep up appearances, though they must know quite well that they
don't deceive anyone who is worth deceiving." The remarkable fact was that
she did not feel in the least shocked or disdainful. She merely
decided--and found a certain queer pleasure in the decision--that human
nature was a curious phenomenon, and that there must be a lot of it on
earth. And she felt kindly towards Mr. Gilman.

"If you'd said gout----" she remarked. "I always understood that men
generally had gout." And she consciously, with intention, employed a
simple, innocent tone, knowing that it misled Mr. Gilman, a