Company growing in
size and importance till they covered a hundred acres, and of the
millions of motors they would turn out, and of the great collection of
pictures he would form which should beat anything they had in New York.
He would wear horn spectacles. And she, with the delicious pressure of
his arms about her, sighed with happiness, for she thought of the
exquisite house she would have, full of antique furniture, and of the
concerts she would give, and of the _thes dansants_, and the dinners to
which only the most cultured people would come. Bateman should wear horn
spectacles.

"Poor Edward," she sighed.

IV

_Red_

The skipper thrust his hand into one of his trouser pockets and with
difficulty, for they were not at the sides but in front and he was a
portly man, pulled out a large silver watch. He looked at it and then
looked again at the declining sun. The Kanaka at the wheel gave him a
glance, but did not speak. The skipper's eyes rested on the island they
were approaching. A white line of foam marked the reef. He knew there
was an opening large enough to get his ship through, and when they came
a little nearer he counted on seeing it. They had nearly an hour of
daylight still before them. In the lagoon the water was deep and they
could anchor comfortably. The chief of the village which he could
already see among the coconut trees was a friend of the mate's, and it
would be pleasant to go ashore for the night. The mate came forward at
that minute and the skipper turned to him.

"We'll take a bottle of booze along with us and get some girls in to
dance," he said.

"I don't see the opening," said the mate.

He was a Kanaka, a handsome, swarthy fellow, with somewhat the look of a
later Roman emperor, inclined to stoutness; but his face was fine and
clean-cut.

"I'm dead sure there's one right here," said the captain, looking
through his glasses. "I can't understand why I can't pick it up. Send
one of the boys up the mast to have a look."

The mate called one of the crew and gave him the order. The captain
watched the Kanaka climb and waited for him to speak. But the Kanaka
shouted down that he could see nothing but the unbroken line of foam.
The captain spoke Samoan like a native, and he cursed him freely.

"Shall he stay up there?" asked the mate.

"What the hell good does that do?" answered the captain. "The blame fool
can't see worth a cent. You bet your sweet life I'd find the opening