to the water as I did," said Mr.
Spokesly patiently. "I want you to bring it up here for this lady."

"Of course I will. Why didn't you say so?"

"You can sit here," said the chief officer. There was a seat at each end
of the bridge screened by a small teak house with glass windows, and he
pushed Evanthia gently into the starboard one. "And now put this on," he
added when Plouff appeared holding out an enormous mass of heavy blue
cloth.

And into that dark corner she vanished, so obliterated by the coat that
only by leaning close to her could Mr. Spokesly discern the gleam of her
forehead and eyes. But when he had seen that she was comfortable, he
took himself to the centre of the bridge and stood there looking out
over the dodger and thinking of the question she had put to him in the
cabin. By and by, she had retorted upon his avowal of independence, he
would go back to his sweetheart, his fiancee, in England, and what would
Evanthia do then? That was the question. He stared into the darkness and
sought some kind of an answer to it. It cut to the very quick of his
emotion for her--that extraordinary sentiment which can exist in a man's
heart without impairing in any way his authentic fidelities. He wanted
to make her see this, and he could not find words adequate to express
the subtle perversity of the thought. He had a sudden fancy she was
laughing at him and his clumsy attempts to justify his devotion. He
turned and walked over to her and bent down. He could see the bright
eyes over the immense collar of the coat.

"England is a long way away," he whispered. "I mean, very distant.
Perhaps I shall never get back. And nobody writes to me. No letters. So,
while I am here, you understand?"

He remained bent over her, his head lost in the darkness of the little
recess, waiting for a reply which did not come. And he thought, going
away to the binnacle again:

"She is right. Nobody can excuse themselves in a case like this. The
only way is to say nothing at all."

He did not go near her for a long while. Then an idea came to him, so
simple he wondered he had not thought of it before. He was not making
the most of the situation. He glanced back at the helmsman. He was far
back, behind the steering wheel, and the faint glow of the binnacle lamp
was screened by a canvas hood. Mr. Spokesly bent over the girl again.

"You do not believe me?" he muttered. "You think I am not sincere? You
think I would leave you?"

He l