t's compact comfort, her intuitive comprehension of its various
details--the lamps set in gimbals, the china racks and chart cases
slung overhead--entered at once into the spirit of the craft that was
John Woolfolk's sole place of being.

He was now disturbed by the ease with which she had established
herself both in the yacht and in his imagination. He had thought,
after so many years, to have destroyed all the bonds which ordinarily
connect men with life; but now a mere curiosity had grown into a
tangible interest, and the interest showed unmistakable signs of
becoming sympathy.

She smiled at him from her position by the wheel; and he instinctively
responded with such an unaccustomed, ready warmth that he said
abruptly, seeking refuge in occupation:

"Why not reach out to sea? The conditions are perfect."

"Ah, please!" she cried. "Just to take up the anchor would thrill me
for months."

A light west wind was blowing; and deliberate, exactly spaced swells,
their tops laced with iridescent spray, were sweeping in from a sea
like a glassy blue pavement. Woolfolk issued a short order, and the
sailor moved forward with his customary smooth swiftness. The sails
were shaken loose, the mainsail slowly spread its dazzling expanse to
the sun, the jib and jigger were trimmed, and the anchor came up with
a short rush.

Millie rose with her arms outspread, her chin high and eyes closed.

"Free!" she proclaimed with a slow, deep breath.

The sails filled and the ketch forged ahead. John Woolfolk, at the
wheel, glanced at the chart section beside him.

"There's four feet on the bar at low water," he told Halvard. "The
tide's at half flood now."

The _Gar_ increased her speed, slipping easily out of the bay, gladly,
it seemed to Woolfolk, turning toward the sea. The bow rose, and the
ketch dipped forward over a spent wave. Millie Stope grasped the
wheelbox. "Free!" she said again with shining eyes.

The yacht rose more sharply, hung on a wave's crest and slid lightly
downward. Woolfolk, with a sinewy, dark hand directing their course,
was intent upon the swelling sails. Once he stopped, tightening a
halyard, and the sailor said:

"The main peak won't flatten, sir."

The swells grew larger. The _Gar_ climbed their smooth heights and
coasted like a feather beyond. Directly before the yacht they were
unbroken, but on either side they foamed into a silver quickly
reabsorbed in the deeper water within the bar.

Woolfo