ly at Twickenham. And it was here, on a perfect day in
late autumn, that Ada Rivers, living with her married sister at
Richmond, brought balm to his wounded spirit.

From the very first day, spent in a punt at Kingston, she had struck the
right note of adoration. He had been telling her how his last ship had
been sunk by the _Emden_, and was going on to say he had providentially
left her just before, when she broke in ecstatically: "And you went
through it all?" He hesitated for a moment, and she followed this up
with, "How glorious! You _have_ been doing your bit!" She leaned back on
the cushions and gazed at him with shining gray eyes as he poled her
gently along, his large hairy arms, one of them clasped by a wrist
watch, outstretched above her, as though in some mystic benediction, his
loose mouth and double chin pendulous with the delicious flattery. For
she was a fine girl--he realized that immediately his sister had
introduced him. She made him feel his masculinity. He liked to think
afterwards of how deliberately he had made his choice.

He floated for a time in a dream of sensuous delight, for she was one of
those girls who will obey orders, who like orders, in fact, and whose
proud subservience sends a thrill of supreme pleasure through the minds
of their commanders. They were soon engaged.

There was not as much difference between this courtship and that of an
average coal or ice man as one might suppose. Mr. Spokesly's emotional
output so far had been, if I may say so, limited. But this was all grist
to Ada's mill. It was put down to the strong, deep, English sailor
nature, just as his primitive methods of wooing were credited to the
bluff English sailor nature. She was under an illusion all the time. All
that her married sister could say was useless. The married sister was
married to a man who was a woman-tamer himself in a way. He was now at
the Front, where he had won a medal for extraordinary bravery, and his
wife was dreading the day of his return. She used the interval of peace
and quiet to warn her sister. But who can fight against an illusion? The
married sister had to shrug her shoulders, and point out that Mr.
Spokesly was throwing himself away on a silly chit. She admired Mr.
Spokesly herself, to tell the truth, and liked to have him in the house,
where he was often to be found during his six weeks' vacation. It was
she who told him his was "a man's work" in a low contralto voice with a
thrill i