at him. Perhaps
that had changed everything, made him what he was.

She wondered if she would ever be able to return to the shell out of which
the ironic humour of chance had thrust her. Wondered if she could pick up
again philosophically the threads of dull routine. Jane Norman, gliding
over this mysterious southern sea, a lone woman among strong and reckless
men! Piracy! Pearls! Rugs and paintings worth a quarter of a million!
Romance!

Did she want it to last? Did she want romance all the rest of her days?
What was this thing within her that was striving for expression? For what
was she hunting? What worried her and put fear into her heart was the
knowledge that she did not know what she wanted. From all directions came
questions she could not answer.

Was she in love? If so, where was the fire that should attend? Was it
Denny--or yonder riddle? She felt contented with Denny, but Cunningham's
presence seemed to tear into unexplored corners of her heart and brain.
If she were in love with Denny, why didn't she thrill when he approached?
There was only a sense of security, contentment.

The idea of racing round the world romantically with Denny struck her as
absurd. Equally contrary to reason was the picture of herself and
Cunningham sitting before a wood fire. What was the matter with Jane
Norman?

There was one bar of light piercing the fog. She knew now why she had
permitted Cleigh to abduct her. To bring about a reconciliation between
father and son. And apparently there was as much chance as of east meeting
west. She walked over to the rail and joined Cunningham.

"You?" he said.

"The cabin was stuffy. I couldn't sleep."

"I wonder."

"About what?"

"If there isn't a wild streak in you that corresponds with mine. You fall
into the picture naturally--curious and unafraid."

"Why should I be afraid, and why shouldn't I be curious?"

"The greatest honour a woman ever paid me. I mean that you shouldn't be
afraid of me when everything should warn you to give me plenty of sea
room."

"I know more about men than I do about women."

"And I know too much about both."

"There have been other women--besides the one who laughed?"

"Yes. Perhaps I was cruel enough to make them pay for that.

"'Funny an' yellow an' faithful--
Doll in a teacup she were,
But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair,
An' I learned about women from 'er!'

"But I wonder what would