as a satisfaction in it.
I walked about the lobby of the hotel till Harry returned, idiotically
pleased with myself.

At the breakfast table I acquainted Harry with our plans for a cruise,
and he was fully as eager about it as Le Mire had been. He wanted to
weigh anchor that very afternoon. I explained that it was necessary to
wait for funds from New York.

"How much?" said he. "I'm loaded."

"I've sent for a hundred thousand," said I.

"Are you going to buy her?" he demanded with astonishment.

Then we fell to a discussion of routes. Harry was for Hawaii; Le Mire
for South America.

We tossed a coin.

"Heads," said Desiree, and so it fell.

I requested Le Mire to keep to the hotel as closely as possible for the
days during which it was necessary for us to remain in San Francisco.
She did so, but with an apparent effort.

I have never seen a creature so full of nervous energy and fire; only
by severe restraint could she force herself to even a small degree of
composure. Harry was with her nearly every minute, though what they
found to talk about was beyond my comprehension. Neither was exactly
bubbling over with ideas, and one cannot say "I love you" for
twenty-four hours a day.

It was a cool, sunny day in the latter part of October when we weighed
anchor and passed through the Golden Gate. I had leased the yacht for
a year, and had made alternative plans in case Le Mire should tire of
the sport, which I thought extremely probable.

She and Harry were delighted with the yacht, which was not surprising,
for she was as perfect a craft as I have seen. Sides white as
sea-foam; everything above decks of shining brass, below mahogany, and
as clean and shipshape as a Dutch kitchen. There were five rooms
besides the captain's, and a reception-room, dining-room, and library.
We had provisioned her well, and had a jewel of a cook.

Our first port was Santa Catalina. We dropped anchor there at about
five o'clock in the afternoon of such a day as only southern California
can boast of, and the dingey was lowered to take us ashore.

"What is there?" asked Le Mire, pointing to the shore as we stood
leaning on the rail waiting for the crew to place the ladder.

I answered: "Tourists."

Le Mire shrugged her shoulders. "Tourists? Bah! Merci, non. Allons!"

I laughed and went forward to the captain to tell him that madame did
not approve of Santa Catalina. In another minute the dingey was back
on its d