er and her plans as he never did me and mine. Oh, my soul! Now,
are you satisfied?"

She dropped back against his arm exhausted. Henderson held her and
learned what suffering truly means. He fanned her with his hat, rubbed
her cold hands and murmured broken, incoherent things. By and by slow
tears slipped from under her closed lids, but when she opened them her
eyes were dull and hard.

"What a rag one is when the last secret of the soul is torn out and laid
bare!" she cried.

Henderson thrust his handkerchief into her fingers and whispered,
"Edith, the boat has been creeping up. It's very close. Maybe some of
our crowd are on it. Hadn't we better slip away from here before it
lands?"

"If I can walk," she said. "Oh, I am so dead tired, Hart!

"Yes, dear," said Henderson soothingly. "Just try to pass the landing
before the boat anchors. If I only dared carry you!"

They struggled through the waiting masses, but directly opposite the
landing there was a backward movement in the happy, laughing crowd, the
gang-plank came down with a slam, and people began hurrying from the
boat. Crowded against the fish house on the dock, Henderson could only
advance a few steps at a time. He was straining every nerve to protect
and assist Edith. He saw no one he recognized near them, so he slipped
his arm across her back to help support her. He felt her stiffen against
him and catch her breath. At the same instant, the clearest, sweetest
male voice he ever had heard called: "Be careful there, little men!"

Henderson sent a swift glance toward the boat. Terence O'More had
stepped from the gang-plank, leading a little daughter, so like him, it
was comical. There followed a picture not easy to describe. The Angel
in the full flower of her beauty, richly dressed, a laugh on her cameo
face, the setting sun glinting on her gold hair, escorted by her eldest
son, who held her hand tightly and carefully watched her steps. Next
came Elnora, dressed with equal richness, a trifle taller and slenderer,
almost the same type of colouring, but with different eyes and hair,
facial lines and expression. She was led by the second O'More boy who
convulsed the crowd by saying: "Tareful, Elnora! Don't 'oo be 'teppin'
in de water!"

People surged around them, purposely closing them in.

"What lovely women! Who are they? It's the O'Mores. The lightest one is
his wife. Is that her sister? No, it is his! They say he has a title in
England."

Whispers