former went to Delia now and said a few cheery words, but, from
behind her handkerchief, she begged him to leave her alone for a moment.

"Nerves, all nerves, Mr. Belward," he said, turning towards Gaston.
"But, then, it was ticklish-ticklish."

They did not shake hands. Gaston was looking at Delia, and he did not
reply.

Mr. Gasgoyne continued:

"Nasty sea coming on--afraid to try Point du Raz. Of course we didn't
know you were here."

He looked at Andree curiously. He was struck by the girl's beauty and
force. But how different from Delia!

He suddenly turned, and said bluntly, in a low voice: "Belward, what
a fool--what a fool! You had it all at your feet: the best--the very
best."

Gaston answered quietly:

"It's an awkward time for talking. The rocks will have your yacht in
half an hour."

Gasgoyne turned towards it.

"Yes, she'll get a raking fore and aft." Then, he added, suddenly: "Of
course you know how we feel about our rescue. It was plucky of you."

"Pluckier in the girl," was the reply. "Brave enough," the honest
rejoinder.

Gaston had an impulse to say, "Shall I thank her for you?" but he was
conscious how little right he had to be ironical with Warren Gasgoyne,
and he held his peace.

While the two were now turned away towards the Kismet, Andree came to
Delia. She did not quite know how to comfort her, but she was a woman,
and perhaps a supporting arm would do something.

"There, there," she said, passing a hand round her shoulder, "you are
all right now. Don't cry!"

With a gasp of horror, Delia got to her feet, but swayed, and fell
fainting--into Andree's arms.

She awoke near the landing-place, her father beside her. Meanwhile
Andree had read the riddle. As Mr. Gasgoyne bathed Delia's face, and
Gaston her wrists, and gave her brandy, she sat still and intent,
watching. Tears and fainting! Would she--Andree-have given way like that
in the same circumstances? No. But this girl--Delia--was of a different
order: was that it? All nerves and sentiment! At one of those lunches
in the grand world she had seen a lady burst into tears suddenly at some
one's reference to Senegal. She herself had only cried four times,
that she remembered; when her mother died; when her father was called a
thief; when, one day, she suffered the first great shame of her life in
the mountains of Auvergne; and the night when she waked a second time to
her love for Gaston. She dared to call it love, though good