over the hill and into the shore road in a
state of extreme dejection.

But he lingered on the way, diverted almost against his will by the
sight of fishing smacks putting into harbor, an island steamer rounding
a distant cliff, and the _Sea Gull_ lying motionless just within the
breakwater. Women may be unkind, but a ship is a ship, after all. One
can not nurse the pain even of a shattered heart when running before a
stiff wind with the spinnaker set and an open sea ahead.

The thought decided him. The sea should be his bride. Jim did not
stop to arrange, at the moment, just how this should be brought about,
but his determination was none the less firm. He became sentimental to
the extent of reflecting, vaguely, that this was but philosophic
justice. The sea had not conquered him--far from it; neither should
She conquer him. He would follow the sea, the path of glamour, the
home of the winged foot and the vanishing sail, the road to alien and
mysterious lands--

Thus Jimmy, in reaction from the Arctic douche to which his emotional
self had been subjected. He was, figuratively speaking, blue with the
cold, but trying valiantly to warm himself.

As he gazed at the _Sea Gull_, asleep on the flood tide, cutting a
gallant figure in the glowing sunset, he felt an overmastering longing
to be aboard. He would stay on the yacht until Chamberlain came, at
least; possibly all night.

Having made up his mind on this point, James persuaded himself that he
felt better. Philosophy is a friend in need, after all. Why should
one failure in getting one's desires crush the spirit? He would make a
right-about-face, travel for a year on a sailing vessel, see the world.
That was it. Hang the shoe business!

Immersed in mental chaos such as these fragments of thought suggest,
Jim did not perceive that he was being overtaken, until a slow greeting
came to his ears.

"Good evening, friend." It was the deliberate, wide-eyed youth of the
Reading-room.

"Ah, good evening."

"If you are on your way to the Sailors' Reading-room, I wish to inform
you that I have been obliged to lock up for to-night, on account of an
urgent errand at the village." Jimmy stared vacantly for a moment at
the pale, washed-out countenance of his interlocutor. "I thought I'd
tell you," the youth went on in his copy-book style, "so as to save
your taking the long walk. I am the librarian of the Reading-room."

"Ah, thank you. But I wasn't goin