He looked at her for a moment or two without saying a word.

"Will you take this dress, Elizabeth?" he said at last, almost harshly.

"No, that I won't, Salvé. Such things as you have been saying about me!"

"So you won't take it?" he said, slowly and dejectedly. "It is no use
saying anything more, then, I suppose."

"No, Salvé, it is no use saying anything more."

The desolate expression of his face as he stood and looked at her, while
he asked, "Am I to take it to sea with me, Elizabeth?" went to her
heart, and the tears rushed into her eyes. She shook her head
negatively, but with an almost despairing look, and disappeared into the
house.

They could see in the sitting-room that she had been crying. But Carl
Beck was a cold-blooded man, and merely lay at the window and looked out
after his rival, to see if he had the parcel under his arm as he went
out of the gate.

That night Elizabeth lay awake. She had cried in her sleep, and had
dreamed that she had seen Salvé standing down at the quay so wretchedly
clothed and so miserable, but too proud to ask assistance of any one,
and that he had given her such a bitterly reproachful look; and she lay
tossing about, unable to get the dream out of her head. Presently there
came the noise of a riotous mob outside, and she got up and went to the
window. The police were taking some one with them down the street. As
they passed, she saw by the light of the street-lamp for a moment that