fortunate that
French had taken a saner view of the situation, for the coffee was
just what was needed to restore her equipoise.

She began to understand the delicacy of her companion's conduct, and
the simplicity of the whole situation when stripped of morbidness. The
only thing that behooved her was to soothe her husband's last hours on
earth--to give out the tenderness of a pitying heart. As her common
sense asserted itself she began plying Stephen with the questions that
had seemed so impossible half an hour before--would Simeon know
her--could he bear conversation--was he changed in appearance--had he
suffered beyond relief? She demanded the whole story of his rescue and
of the voyage home. She was gentle, womanly, infinitely sweet. By the
time they reached their destination all constraint was gone; they were
two comrades absorbed in a common interest, for Simeon occupied their
every thought.

There was a narrow pier at Wolfshead, sheltered by a point of rocky
shore that made a landing for small boats in good weather, and there
the steam launch was waiting with its two trim sailors and its gaudy
flag. The yacht was anchored about a mile from shore--her graceful
outlines clearly defined against the ocean's blue. If the purity of
her white paint had suffered in the long voyage it was not
apparent--red and white awnings were stretched over the deck. All
looked hospitably gay. Once more Deena shrank into herself, the
brilliant scene mocked the tragedy within.

All too quickly they crossed the intervening water; they were on the
deck--in the saloon. She was trembling so she could hardly stand, and
Stephen put her into a comfortable chair and left her, while he made
her coming known. She hardly glanced at the luxurious fittings of the
charming room; her eyes were fixed on the door, dreading, yet
impatient, for the message.

A small, sensitive-looking man came toward her and introduced himself.

"I am Dr. Miles," he said, "Mr. Ponsonby's physician, and, if you will
allow me, I will take you to him now. There is no question of saving
his strength, Mrs. Ponsonby. We have been nursing what is left to him
for days, in order that he could lavish it in this interview with you.
Don't try to curb him; let him have his say."

She followed him to a deck cabin almost under the bridge, and stood
for a moment at the threshold, to make sure of her composure. There
was a narrow brass bed, a chest of drawers, a washstand, and clo