east for an hour, and then north for an hour," and went below.

Day returned briefly at sunset. It was an astonishing gift. The clouds
rapidly lifted and the sky cleared, till the sea extended far to a bright
horizon, hard and polished, a clear separation of our planet and heaven.
The waves were still ponderous. The _Windhover_ laboured heavily. We
rolled over the bright slopes aimlessly. She would rear till the forward
deck stuck up in front of us, then drop over, flinging us against the
dodger, and the shock would surround her with foam that was an eruption
of greenish light.

The sun was a cold rayless ball halved by the dark sea. The wall of
heaven above it was flushed and translucent marble. There was a silver
paring of moon in a tincture of rose. When the sun had gone, the place
it had left was luminous with saffron and mauve, and for a brief while we
might have been alone in a vast hall with its crystalline dome penetrated
by a glow that was without. The purple waters took the light from above
and the waves turned to flames. The fountains that mounted at the bows
and fell inboard came as showers of gems. (I heard afterwards it was
still foggy in London.) And now, having made all I can of sunset and
ocean, and a spray of amethysts, jacinths, emeralds, zircons, rubies,
peridots, and sapphires, it is no longer possible for me to avoid the
saloon, the thought of which, for an obscure reason, my mind loathed.

And our saloon, compared with the measure of the twilight emptiness now
about us, was no bigger than the comfort a man feels amid mischance when
he remembers that he is still virtuous. The white cloth on its table, I
noticed, as I sat down, was contaminated by a long and sinful life. But
the men round it were good and hearty. I took my share of ham and fish
on the same plate, and began to feel not so hungry as before. I was