e the paper to her; but,
in that instant, Constance herself was "prepared." She must have
deceived herself the instant before! This bulletin must be something
dismaying to what had remained of hope.

"8:35 A.M., Manitowoc, Wis.," she read. "The schooner _Anna S.
Solwerk_ has been sighted making for this port. She is not close
enough for communication, but two lifeboats, additional to her own, can
be plainly made out. It is believed that she must have picked up
survivors of No. 25. She carries no wireless, so is unable to report.
Tugs are going out to her."

"Two lifeboats!" Constance cried. "That could mean that they all are
saved or nearly all; doesn't it, Henry; doesn't it?"

He had read some other significance in it, she thought, or, from his
greater understanding of conditions in the storm, he had been able to
hold no hope from what had been reported. That was the only way she
could explain to herself as he replied to her; that the word meant to
him that men were saved and that therefore it was dismaying to him,
could not come to her at once. When it came now, it went over her
first only in the flash of incredulous question.

"Yes," he said to her. "Yes." And he went out of the room to the
outer office. She turned and watched him and then followed to the
door. He had gone to the desk of the girl who had brought him the
bulletin, and Constance heard his voice, strained and queerly
unnatural. "Call Manitowoc on the long distance. Get the harbor
master. Get the names of the people that the _Solwerk_ picked up."

He stayed beside the girl while she started the call. "Put them on my
wire when you get them," he commanded and turned back to his office.
"Keep my wire clear for that."

Constance retreated into the room as he approached. He did not want
her there now, she knew; for that reason--if she yet definitely
understood no other--she meant to remain. If he asked her to go, she
intended to stay; but he did not ask her. He wished her to go away; in
every word which he spoke to her, in every moment of their silent
waiting, was his desire to escape her; but he dared not--dared not--go
about that directly.

The feeling of that flashed over her to her stupefaction. Henry and
she were waiting for word of the fate of Uncle Benny and Alan, and
waiting opposed! She was no longer doubting it as she watched him; she
was trying to understand. The telephone buzzer under his desk sounded;
she drew clos