winds when released from pressure, with considerable
detail and with such show of knowledge, that Ridley was disgusted, and
begged him to stop.

From all this Helen drew her own conclusions, which were gloomy enough.
Pepper was a bore; Rachel was an unlicked girl, no doubt prolific of
confidences, the very first of which would be: "You see, I don't get on
with my father." Willoughby, as usual, loved his business and built his
Empire, and between them all she would be considerably bored. Being a
woman of action, however, she rose, and said that for her part she was
going to bed. At the door she glanced back instinctively at Rachel,
expecting that as two of the same sex they would leave the room
together. Rachel rose, looked vaguely into Helen's face, and remarked
with her slight stammer, "I'm going out to t-t-triumph in the wind."

Mrs. Ambrose's worst suspicions were confirmed; she went down the
passage lurching from side to side, and fending off the wall now
with her right arm, now with her left; at each lurch she exclaimed
emphatically, "Damn!"

Chapter II

Uncomfortable as the night, with its rocking movement, and salt smells,
may have been, and in one case undoubtedly was, for Mr. Pepper had
insufficient clothes upon his bed, the breakfast next morning wore a
kind of beauty. The voyage had begun, and had begun happily with a soft
blue sky, and a calm sea. The sense of untapped resources, things to say
as yet unsaid, made the hour significant, so that in future years the
entire journey perhaps would be represented by this one scene, with the
sound of sirens hooting in the river the night before, somehow mixing
in.

The table was cheerful with apples and bread and eggs. Helen handed
Willoughby the butter, and as she did so cast her eye on him and
reflected, "And she married you, and she was happy, I suppose."

She went off on a familiar train of thought, leading on to all kinds
of well-known reflections, from the old wonder, why Theresa had married
Willoughby?

"Of course, one sees all that," she thought, meaning that one sees that
he is big and burly, and has a great booming voice, and a fist and a
will of his own; "but--" here she slipped into a fine analysis of him
which is best represented by one word, "sentimental," by which she meant
that he was never simple and honest about his feelings. For example, he
seldom spoke of the dead, but kept anniversaries with singular pomp.
She suspected him of