" Cora responded quickly. "It was the day your engagement was
announced in the papers, because we spoke about it."

"Did you?" he said, and drew in his breath a little. "And what did you
say?"

"Just the usual things--how fortunate you were. And Halcyone said you
were clever and great."

John Derringham did not answer for a moment. This stunned him. Then he
replied, very low, "That was good of her," and Cora noticed that even
with the fresh wind blowing in his face he had grown very pale.

"Cis writes you are going to be married at the beginning of October,"
she said, to change the conversation. "I do hope you will be awfully
happy. It is so exquisite to be in love, isn't it? I adore being
engaged!"

But John Derringham could not bear this--the two things were so widely
severed in his case. He did not answer, and Cora saw, although his face
remained unmoved, that pain grew deep in his eyes.

"Mr. Derringham," she said, "I am going to say something indiscreet and
perhaps in frightful taste--but I am so happy I can't bear to think that
possibly others are not quite. I know Cis awfully well--her character, I
mean. Is there anything I can do for you?"

John Derringham turned with a chillingly haughty glance intended to
wither, but when he saw her sweet face full of frank sympathy and
kindness, it touched him and his manner changed.

"We have each of us to fulfill our fates," he said. "I suppose we each
deserve what we receive, and I am so glad yours seems to be such a very
happy one."

Then he made some excuse to get up and leave her--he could bear no more.

And Cora, left alone, smiled sadly to herself while she reflected what a
foolish thing pride was, and all the other shams which robbed life of
the only thing really worth having.

"Well, I should not let any of that nonsense ever stand between Freynie
and me, thank goodness!" she concluded.

But John Derringham limped off to the bows of the ship, quivering with
pain. So Halcyone had spoken of his engagement and said he was "clever
and great." What could it all mean? Did he no longer interest her
then--even at that period? This stung him deeply. There was no light
anywhere. When once he had grasped the full significance of his own
conduct he was much too fine an intelligence to deceive himself, or
persuade himself to see any other aspect but the hopeless one, that the
entire chain of events was the result of his own action. But surely
there must be some wa