orvet stopped, drew up his shoulders, and stood staring out toward the
lake, as the signal blasts of distress boomed and boomed again. Color
came now into his pale cheeks for an instant. A siren swelled and
shrieked, died away wailing, shrieked louder and stopped; the four
blasts blew again, and the siren wailed in answer.

A door opened behind Corvet; warm air rushed out, laden with sweet,
heavy odors--chocolate and candy; girls' laughter, exaggerated
exclamations, laughter again came with it; and two girls holding their
muffs before their faces passed by.

"See you to-night, dear."

"Yes; I'll be there--if he comes."

"Oh, he'll come!"

They ran to different limousines, scurried in, and the cars swept off.

Corvet turned about to the tearoom from which they had come; he could
see, as the door opened again, a dozen tables with their white cloths,
shining silver, and steaming little porcelain pots; twenty or thirty
girls and young women were refreshing themselves, pleasantly, after
shopping or fittings or a concert; a few young men were sipping
chocolate with them. The blast of the distress signal, the scream of
the siren, must have come to them when the door was opened; but, if
they heard it at all, they gave it no attention; the clatter and
laughter and sipping of chocolate and tea was interrupted only by those
who reached quickly for a shopping list or some filmy possession
threatened by the draft. They were as oblivious to the lake in front
of their windows, to the ship struggling for life in the storm, as
though the snow were a screen which shut them into a distant world.

To Corvet, a lake man for forty years, there was nothing strange in
this. Twenty miles, from north to south, the city--its business
blocks, its hotels and restaurants, its homes--faced the water and,
except where the piers formed the harbor, all unprotected water, an
open sea where in times of storm ships sank and grounded, men fought
for their lives against the elements and, losing, drowned and died; and
Corvet was well aware that likely enough none of those in that tearoom
or in that whole building knew what four long blasts meant when they
were blown as they were now, or what the siren meant that answered.
But now, as he listened to the blasts which seemed to have grown more
desperate, this profoundly affected Corvet. He moved once to stop one
of the couples coming from the tearoom. They hesitated, as he stared
at them; then, wh