was about to be dismissed.
In a flash there surged through her mind all that this would mean. She
might be taken on again by the Admiralty; but at less than half her
present salary. It was really rather bad luck, she told herself, when
the extra money meant so much to her, and she really had tried to be
worth it.

"You see, I don't understand them."

The remark broke in upon her thoughts as something almost silly in its
irrelevancy. Again she looked up at him as he stood before her rather
as if expecting rebuke. Again he span round and continued his pacing
of the room.

As he walked he threw staccatoed remarks from him rather than directed
them at Dorothy.

"There's nothing wrong with the _Destroyer_. When you're after one
thing you don't seem to notice all the other things buzzing around.
One day you wake up to find out that you've been missing things. I've
been telling myself all the time that some things didn't matter, but
they do."

He paused in front of Dorothy, expressing the last three words with
almost savage emphasis.

"There's never been anybody except Jim--and the boys," he added, "until
your mother was----" He stopped dead, then a moment later continued:
"I'd like her to know." To Dorothy his voice seemed a little husky.
"May be it'ud please her to think that she had--you see I'm telling you
the whole shooting-match," he blurted out as he resumed his restless
pacing up and down.

"But that's just what you're not doing," said Dorothy. "I don't in the
least understand what you mean, and---- Oh, I wish you could stand
still, if only for a minute."

Instantly John Dene stopped in his walk, and stood in the middle of the
room looking over Dorothy's head.

"I'm trying to ask you to marry me, only I haven't got the sand to do
it," he blurted out almost angrily.

"Oh!" Dorothy's hands slipped into her lap, her eyes widened and her
lips parted, as she looked up at him utterly dumbfounded.

"There, I knew what it would mean," he said, as he continued his
pacing. "What have I got to offer? Look at me. I'm not good-looking.
My clothes are not right. I don't wear them properly. I can't say
pretty things. The best I can do is to buy flowers and chocolates and
express them. I daren't even hand them to you. Oh, I've thought it
all over. What use am I to a woman?" Then as an after-thought he
added, "to a girl?" He turned and paced away from Dorothy without
looking at her.

"Oh, shucks!