her in possession.

III

It was early morning when they came at last into port. When Sybil
appeared on deck she found it crowded with excited men, and the hubbub
was deafening. A multitude of small boats buzzed to and fro on the
tumbling waters below them, and she expected every instant to see one
swamped as the great ship floated majestically through the throng.

She had anticipated a crowd of people on the wharf to witness their
arrival, but the knot of men gathered there scarcely numbered a score.
She scanned them eagerly, but it took only a very few seconds to
convince her that Robin Wentworth was not among them. And there had been
no letter from him at Colombo.

"They don't allow many people on the wharf," said Mercer's voice behind
her. "There will be more on the other side of the Customs house."

She looked up at him, bravely smiling, though her heart was throbbing
almost to suffocation and she could not speak a word.

He passed on into the crowd and she lost sight of him.

There followed a delay of nearly half-an-hour, during which she stood
where she was in the glaring sunshine, dumbly watching. The town, with
its many buildings, its roar of traffic; the harbour, with its ships and
its hooting sirens; the hot sky, the water that shone like molten brass;
all were stamped upon her aching brain with nightmare distinctness. She
felt as one caught in some pitiless machine that would crush her to
atoms before she could escape.

The gangways were fixed at last, and there was a general movement. She
went with the crowd, Mercer's last words still running through her brain
with a reiteration that made them almost meaningless. On the other side
of the Customs house! Of course, of course she would find Robin there,
waiting for her!

She said it to herself over and over as she stepped ashore, and she
began to picture their meeting. And then, suddenly, an awful doubt
assailed her. She could not recall his features. His image would not
rise before her. The memory of his face had passed completely from her
mind. It had never done so before, and she was scared. But she strove to
reassure herself with the thought that she must surely recognize him the
moment her eyes beheld him. It was but a passing weakness this, born of
her agitation. Of course, she would know him, and he would know her,
too, mightily though she felt she had changed during those three years
that they had not met.

She moved on as one in a dream,