But I can tell you you've
kicked up a h-ll of a row over there." He stopped, evidently at some
sign from her guest. The rest of the man's speech followed in a hurried
whisper, which was stopped again by the voice she knew. "No. Certainly
not." The next moment his tall figure was darkening the door of the
kitchen; his hand was outstretched. "Good-by, Mrs. Bunker, and many
thanks for your hospitality. My friends here," he turned grimly to the
men behind him, "think I ought to ask you to keep this a secret even
from your husband. I DON'T! They also think that I ought to offer you
money for your kindness. I DON'T! But if you will honor me by keeping
this ring in remembrance of it"--he took a heavy seal ring from his
finger--"it's the only bit of jewelry I have about me--I'll be very
glad. Good-by!" She felt for a moment the firm, soft pressure of his
long, thin fingers around her own, and then--he was gone. The sound of
retreating oars grew fainter and fainter and was lost. The same reserve
of delicacy which now appeared to her as a duty kept her from going to
the window to watch the destination of the boat. No, he should go as he
came, without her supervision or knowledge.

Nor did she feel lonely afterwards. On the contrary, the silence and
solitude of the isolated domain had a new charm. They kept the memory of
her experience intact, and enabled her to refill it with his presence.
She could see his tall figure again pausing before her cabin, without
the incongruous association of another personality; she could hear his
voice again, unmingled with one more familiar. For the first time, the
regular absence of her husband seemed an essential good fortune instead
of an accident of their life. For the experience belonged to HER, and
not to him and her together. He could not understand it; he would have
acted differently and spoiled it. She should not tell him anything of
it, in spite of the stranger's suggestion, which, of course, he had only
made because he didn't know Zephas as well as she did. For Mrs. Bunker
was getting on rapidly; it was her first admission of the conjugal
knowledge that one's husband is inferior to the outside estimate of
him. The next step--the belief that he was deceiving HER as he was
THEM--would be comparatively easy.

Nor should she show him the ring. The stranger had certainly never said
anything about that! It was a heavy ring, with a helmeted head carved on
its red carnelian stone, and what lo