fool.

A sharp blast from the tender's whistle drew her attention to the
gangplank. The last man to come aboard was Warrington. He appeared in
no especial hurry. He immediately sought James; and they stood
together chatting until the tender drew up alongside the steamer of the
British-India line. The two men shook hands finally. There seemed to
be some argument, in which Warrington bore down the servant. The
latter added a friendly tap on the Eurasian's shoulder. No one would
have suspected that the white man and his dark companion had been
"shipmates," in good times and in bad, for nearly a decade. Elsa,
watching them from her secure nook, admired the lack of effusiveness.
The dignity of the parting told her of the depth of feeling.

An hour later they were heading for the delta. Elsa amused herself by
casting bits of bread to the gulls. Always they caught it on the wing,
no matter in what direction she threw it. Sometimes one would wing up
to her very hand for charity, its coral feet stretched out to meet the
quick back-play of the wings, its cry shallow and plaintive and
world-lonely.

Suddenly she became aware of a presence at her side.

A voice said: "It was not quite fair of you."

"What wasn't?" without turning her head. She brushed her hands free of
the crumbs.

"You should have let me know that you were going to sail on this boat."

"You would have run away, then."

"Why?" startled at her insight.

"Because you are a little afraid of me." She faced him, without a
smile either on her lips or in her eyes. "Aren't you?"

"Yes. I am afraid of all things I do not quite understand."

"There is not the least need in the world, Mr. Warrington. I am quite
harmless. My claws have been clipped. I am engaged to be married, and
am going home to decide the day."

"He's a lucky man." He was astonished at his calm, for the blow went
deep.

"Lucky? That is in the future. What a lonely thing a gull is!"

"What a lonely thing a lonely man is!" he added. Poor fool! To have
dreamed so fair a dream for a single moment! He tried to believe that
he was glad that she had told him about the other man. The least this
information could do would be to give him better control of himself.
He had not been out in the open long enough entirely to master his
feelings.

"Men ought not to be lonely," she said. "There's the excitement of
work, of mingling with crowds, of going when and where one pleases