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, they couldn't get at her if the entrance were closed. Should she disrobe entirely or remain fully dressed to be ready for any emergency? Certainly she would be more comfortable undressed. Besides, it was the only way in which she could get a pillow and covering. At that moment a heavy thud just outside made her heart leap to her mouth. "Who's there?" she cried out. "It's only me," answered Armitage. "I'm fixing the door of your hotel. I guess nothing can get in now. Good night." "Good night!" she replied faintly. She listened to his footsteps as they died away in the distance, and slowly began to disrobe. She was soon undressed and was about to get into bed and cover herself up when a thought occurred to her. There was something still to be done. Dropping on her knees, her bare feet on the cold sand, she buried her face in her hands and for the first time in her life offered up a fervent prayer to the unknown, Almighty Power that directs all things. Grace had never been a devout girl. She had no decided metaphysical views of any kind. She was merely indifferent. Given up solely to a life of pleasure, religion to her had been only a word. Her parents had a pew at St. Thomas', on Fifth Avenue, and when she had a new hat or a new gown to show off, she attended the services in the same spirit that she would go to the horse show or any other fashionable function. Never until now had she felt the need of that moral support and encouragement which never fails to bring comfort to the faithful in their hour of trouble. She prayed earnestly to be saved from her present desperate situation, for protection during the coming night, and she prayed also for her late ship companions who at that moment might be suffering in the open boats. This done, her mind felt easier, and, covering herself as well as she could, she closed her eyes and courted sleep. Happily the night was warm, otherwise her scant covering, consisting solely of a thin mantle, would not have sufficed. Everything outside was perfectly still. The lazy splash of the surf and the gentle murmur of the breeze were the only sounds that reached her ears. Not hearing Armitage moving about she concluded that he had rolled himself up near the fire and gone to sleep. She closed her eyes, and, lulled into drowsiness by the distant music of the sea, she gradually sank into the delicious semi-conscious state that just precedes slumber. Through her tired brain pas
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