overt, yet openly
expressed invitation for him to write to her.

Now Winn Hardy was not blind, and in spite of the two years, during
which he had never met or thought of Ethel Sherman without a pin-prick
in his heart, clear and distinct in his mind was the alluring glance of
her blue eyes that had led him to make a fool of himself, and the red
ripe temptation of her lips he had once stolen kisses from. And now she
was inviting him to write to her. And not two rods away was a girl as
simple and sweet as the daisies that bloomed in a meadow, as utterly
unsophisticated as though reared within convent walls, with eyes like
deep waters, and a soul trembling with passionate music!

For one hour Winn communed with himself, glancing attentively at the
little knot of flowers on a small table near him, and the letter beside
them, and then arose and putting on his hat, left the house. It was a
still summer evening with the crescent of a new moon glinting in the
waters of Rockhaven harbor and outlining the spectral shape of the tower
on Norse Hill. To this Winn turned his steps, and seating himself where
he could look over the undulating ocean, continued his meditation.

All his life, since the day he first entered the office of Weston &
Hill, came to him. All the many snubs he had received, all the
disappointments he had met, all the weeks, months, and years of
monotonous drudgery in that office, all the "fool's paradise" hours he
had passed with Ethel Sherman, all the harsh bitterness he had heard
from the lips of Jack Nickerson--and now the new life, new ambition, and
new influence that had come to him--passed in review. And as he
leisurely puffed his cigar, looking the while out upon the boundless
expanse that, like an eternity, lay before him, he saw himself as he
was, and knew that as a man of honor and for his own peace of mind, he
must choose between two ways. That he could not escape the island for
months and perhaps for years, he saw clearly, and if he remained, as
remain he must if he were to win success in this new project, he must
inevitably become one and a part of the social and hard-working life of
the people with whom he mingled, sharing their hopes and encouraging
their ambitions. And if he did, could he go on holding himself aloof
from all tender impulses, living the life of a recluse, as inflexible as
the granite he quarried, and as void of sentiment?

Winn Hardy besides being impulsive was endowed with a vei