y of the sex to be sincere, or to tell the truth, for ten
consecutive minutes. To-day, however, as he wandered to and fro whither
he would on the reef, he also wandered to and fro whither he would in
the mind, and the absolutely truthful mind too, of a woman. Yet he
found it dull! He sighed to himself, but was obliged to acknowledge
that it _was_ dull. The lime tree, the organ, the Sisters, the Sisters,
the lime tree, the organ; it grew monotonous after a while. Yet he held
his post, for the sake of the old theory, until the high voice of
Melvyna called them back to the little fire on the beach and the white
cloth spread with her best dainties. They saw Carrington sailing in
with an excited air, and presently he brought the boat into the cove
and dragged ashore his prize, towed behind--nothing less than a large
shark, wounded, dead, after a struggle with some other marine monster,
a sword fish probably. "A man-eater," announced the captor. "Look at
him, will you? Look at him, Miss Luke!"

But Miss Luke went far away, and would not look. In truth he was an
ugly creature; even Melvyna kept at a safe distance. But the two men
noted all his points; they measured him carefully; they turned him
over, and discussed him generally in that closely confined and
exhaustive way which marks the masculine mind. Set two women to
discussing a shark, or even the most lovely little brook trout, if you
please, and see how far off they will be in fifteen minutes!

But the lunch was tempting, and finally its discussion called them away
even from that of the shark. And then they all sailed homeward over the
green and blue water, while the white sand hills shone silvery before
them, and then turned red in the sunset. That night the moon was at its
full. Keith went out and strolled up and down on the beach. Carrington
was playing fox-and-goose with Mme. Gonsalvez on a board he had
good-naturedly constructed for her entertainment when she confessed one
day to a youthful fondness for that exciting game. Up stairs gleamed
the little Sister's light. "Saying her prayers with her lips, but
thinking all the time of that old convent," said the stroller to
himself, half scornfully. And he said the truth.

The sea was still and radiant; hardly more than a ripple broke at his
feet; the tide was out, and the broad beach silvery and fresh. "At home
they are buried in snow," he thought, "and the wind, is whistling
around their double windows." And then he