thony's house she had not appeared until luncheon. She had
looked like a ghost, and had been very busy all the afternoon. She had
hinted at affairs which would take her to town for a time, and finally
she had gone away. Even Mrs. Martens had seemed disturbed and restless.
Hence Bettina had welcomed the invitation from Captain Stubbs. Justin's
high spirits, his evident delight in her society, his anger at her
rebuffs--these things soothed and flattered her. Above all there was the
charm of his glorious youth. She found herself swayed to his mood. Might
she not for one little fleeting moment dance to the tune that he piped?

Letting herself go, therefore, she was at luncheon bewildering in her
beauty. Justin's mocking eyes grew tender as he watched her. Here was no
pretty Beggar Maid for masculine condescension, but rather a little
goddess to be put on a pedestal and worshiped.

Captain Stubbs and Miss Matthews, unconscious of the forces which were
charging the air about them, ate their chowder and took their enjoyment
placidly.

"A fish chowder," said the little captain, "never tastes so good in the
house as it does out-of-doors, with the cod fresh caught, and with the
smell of the sea for sauce."

Bettina passed her bowl for more.

"It is delicious," she said; "everything is--lovely."

"Isn't it?" said Justin. "There never was such a feast--there never was
such a day----!"

Yet there had been many such days; there had been many such feasts. But
not for them! It was the golden age of their existence. The moment of
youth and joy, unmarred by disillusion.

CHAPTER X

STORM SIGNALS

The wind, rising, blew Miss Matthews' green veil into a long thin wisp
which flapped toward the northwest.

The captain, noticing it, glanced over his shoulder.

"We'll have a storm before we know it," he said. "It's dark enough over
there in the south----"

Above the horizon rose the clouds, black with wind; the waves began to
murmur and run in, in long lines of white.

"There'll be no getting back now," said the captain.

Justin's eyes searched the land for shelter. Beyond the rocky wall was a
hillside of hemlock, which formed part of the estate of a magnate from
the West. Beyond the trees was a great house, shut up now, and in the
hands of a caretaker. Nothing else seemed to offer refuge from the
storm.

"What do you think, captain?" he asked. "Had we better try to make the
house?"

"I've got my oilskins," the c