Poor Jack--I call him "Poor Jack" although he has behaved like a very
naughty boy--seemed to wince, but made no reply.

Eventually we arrived opposite the village of Hamble, and there the
anchor was weighed--if that is the right expression. Jack suggested
that the three ladies, including myself, should go ashore in the dingey
and stay at the hotel. Mrs. Vivian said that she did not want to do
this, and Mrs. Tenterden positively refused.

"Do you think that I am going to risk my life that jim-crack boat?" she
asked. "I am not quite an imbecile. Though I think I must be after all,
otherwise I should not have come on this idiotic cruise."

Jack again made no reply, but there was something in his face that told
me that he was becoming disillusioned.

Shortly after that he sent the skipper and a boy ashore, who returned
with some marvellous looking lobsters and a huge crab. It seems that
this place is famous for its shell-fish, and I can only say that I
never tasted anything more delicious than the crab in question.

Mrs. Vivian managed to eat a little dinner, but Mrs. Tenterden retired
to her cabin and contented herself with some soup.

I for my part, ate a most capital dinner, and I fancied that Jack
seemed sorry for the way he has been treating me lately; treatment
which I should never have put up with, except from a man whom I love so
devotedly--a man whom I meant to rescue (selfishly, I admit) from that
siren's clutches. In all I have done I have been guided by your advice,
and therefore to you remains all the credit, coupled with the life-long
devotion of your little friend.

Well, we slept on board the yacht, and the morning brought its
revelations.

Mrs. Tenterden was not present at breakfast, and came on deck very
late. And only imagine, my dear, how she had changed. That beautiful
pink complexion that I had admired so much, and even envied, had
disappeared altogether. Her face was of a greyish hue, and possessed no
shade of pink. Those beautiful pencilled eyebrows seemed to have
strangely altered, and to have unaccountably thinned down. The charming
woman-of-the-world manner had entirely disappeared, and, later on, when
we descended to the cabin, at luncheon time, Mrs. Tenterden cast
furtive and certainly not reassuring glances at the little mirror
hanging there.

I confess that at first I was a wee bit sorry for her, but after all,
this Nemesis was thoroughly deserved, and when I saw the impression
t