him important had become, if not worthless, then unessential.

He had sometimes secretly wondered why Mrs. Archdale, possessed as she
was of considerable means, had not altered the old house, had not made
it pretty as her friends' houses and rooms were pretty; but to-day he no
longer wondered at this. His knowledge of the fleetingness of life, and
of the unimportance of all he had once thought so important, was too
vividly present....

She came into the room, and he saw that she was dressed in a more
feminine kind of garment than that in which he generally saw her. It
was white, and though girdled with a black ribbon, it made her look very
young, almost girlish.

For a moment they looked at one another in constraint. Mrs. Archdale
also had altered, altered far less than John Coxeter, but she was aware,
as he was not aware, of the changes which long nearness to death had
brought her; and for almost the first time in her life she was more
absorbed in her own sensations than in those of the person with her.

Seeing John Coxeter standing there waiting for her, looking so like his
old self, so absolutely unchanged, confused her and made her feel
desperately shy.

She held out her hand, but Coxeter scarcely touched it. After having
held her so long in his arms, he did not care to take her hand in formal
greeting. She mistook his gesture, thought that he was annoyed at having
received no word from her since they had parted. The long day in between
had been to Nan Archdale full of nervous horror, for relations, friends,
acquaintances had come in troops to see her, and would not be denied.

Already she had received two or three angry notes from people who
thought they loved her, and who were bitterly incensed that she had
refused to see them when they had rushed to hear her account of an
adventure which might so easily have happened to them. She made the
mistake of confusing Coxeter with these selfish people.

"I am so sorry," she said in a low voice, "that when you called
yesterday I was supposed to be asleep. I have been most anxious to see
you"--she waited a moment and then added his name--"Mr. Coxeter. I knew
that you would have the latest news, and that you would tell it me."

"There is news," he said, "of all the boats; good news--with the
exception of the last boat----" His voice sounded strangely to himself.

"Oh, but that must be all right too, Mr. Coxeter! The captain said the
boats might drift about for a lo