feel "at sea" with
him, to bathe herself, under the shelter of his protection, in the
magnificent, tempestuous, inspiring night. To her, cooped up all her
life in streets and prosaic circumstances, there was something in the
present situation too poetical for words. No bride who had married
money, and was setting out by P. & O. upon her luxurious European tour,
could have been more keenly sensible of the romance of foreign travel
than she, crossing Hobson's Bay in a borrowed Customs launch; while the
squally darkness surrounding and isolating her and her mate
immeasurably enhanced the charm. "I want to see it--to feel it!" she
pleaded. "The air is so clean and fresh! The sea is so grand tonight!
How beautiful it smells! Guthrie, I must have been born for a sailor's
wife--I love it so!"

"Of course you were," the sailor assented heartily. "No manner of doubt
about that. Well, sit here, if you prefer it, sweetheart"--on the stern
grating--"only mind you don't catch cold. And don't let us get that
pretty frock spoiled before the Williamstown folks have seen it."

He steadied her while she stood to have the big macintosh drawn closely
about her--the round cape, flapping far and wide in the rough wind, was
like an unmanageable sail, he said--and when she was again seated, he
tucked it about her knees and feet. Buttons being hard to find and
fasten, he pulled the two fronts of the garment one over the other
across her lap, and she sat upon the outer one. Then he readjusted the
white fascinator, winding the fluffy ends round her neck, and finally
encircling all with his stalwart arm. There she sat, resting against
him, her left hand in his left hand, her contented eyes shining like
stars in the dark. They were practically alone in space, their deck
companions having thoughtfully turned their backs and made themselves
as remote as possible.

A long sigh fluttered through Lily's parted lips from her surcharged
heart. Guthrie heard it through all the clamour of the gale--for it
really was a gale--and the noise of the screw and fiercely snorting
funnel. He stopped his face to hers.

"Tired, pet?"

"No," she murmured, "oh, no!"

"What, then?"

"Only happy--PERFECTLY happy."

"Same here," he said, careless how he tempted Fate--"only more so."

Their lips met, and were holding that sweetest kiss of lovers that are
man and wife, when a wave, driven by the wind, flung a shower of spray
at them, giving each a playful slap of