rd not to turn and make her
escape. His face was so stony and his eyes were so aggressive; he was
always like something dreadful that was just going to happen.

Yet Margarita da Cordova was a brave woman, and had lately been called
a heroine because she had gone on singing after that explosion till
the people were quiet again; and Margaret Donne was a sensible girl,
justly confident of being able to take care of herself where men were
concerned. She stood still and wondered what there was about Mr. Van
Torp that could frighten her so dreadfully.

After a little while she went quietly back to her chair, and sat down
between Griggs and Miss More. The elderly man rose and packed her
neatly in her plaid, and she thanked him. Miss More looked at her and
smiled vaguely, as even the most intelligent people do sometimes. Then
Griggs got into his own chair again and took up his book.

'Was that right of me?' he asked presently, so low that Miss More did
not hear him speak.

'Yes,' Margaret answered, under her breath, 'but don't let me do it
again, please.'

They both began to read, but after a time Margaret spoke to him again
without turning her eyes.

'He wanted to ask me about that girl who died at the theatre,' she
said, just audibly.

'Oh--yes!'

Griggs seemed so vague that Margaret glanced at him. He was looking at
the inside of his right hand in a meditative way, as if it recalled
something. If he had shown more interest in what she said she would
have told him what she had just learned, about the breaking off of the
engagement, but he was evidently absorbed in thought, while he slowly
rubbed that particular spot on his hand, and looked at it again and
again as if it recalled something.

Margaret did not resent his indifference, for he was much more than
old enough to be her father; he was a man whom all younger writers
looked upon as a veteran, he had always been most kind and courteous
to her when she had met him, and she freely conceded him the right to
be occupied with his own thoughts and not with hers. With him she was
always Margaret Donne, and he seldom talked to her about music, or of
her own work. Indeed, he so rarely mentioned music that she fancied he
did not really care for it, and she wondered why he was so often in
the house when she sang.

Mr. Van Torp did not show himself at luncheon, and Margaret began to
hope that he would not appear on deck again till the next day. In
the afternoon the win