committal, yet earnest. If it was not approval, it was not condemnation;
but it might have been slightly ironical, and that annoyed me. It seemed
impossible for him--and it was so always, I believe--to get out of his
mind the thought of the man he had rescued on No Man's Sea. I am sure
it jarred upon him that the band foolishly played a welcome when Mrs.
Falchion stepped on the deck. As I delivered Miss Treherne into the
hands of her father, who was anxiously awaiting us, Hungerford said in my
ear: "A tragedy queen, Marmion." He said it so distinctly that Mrs.
Falchion heard it, and she gave him a searching look. Their eyes met and
warred for a moment, and then he added: "I remember! Yes, I can respect
the bravery of a woman whom I do not like."

"And this is to-morrow," she said, "and a man may change his mind, and
that may be fate--or a woman's whim." She bowed, turned away, and went
below, evidently disliking the reception she had had, and anxious to
escape inquiries and congratulations. Nor did she appear again until the
'Fulvia' got under way about six o'clock in the evening. As we moved out
of the harbour we passed close to the 'Porcupine' and saw its officers
grouped on the deck, waving adieus to some one on our deck, whom I
guessed, of course, to be Galt Roscoe.

At this time Mrs. Falchion was standing near me. "For whom is that
demonstration?" she said.

"For one of her officers, who is a passenger by the 'Fulvia'," I replied.
"You remember we passed the 'Porcupine' in the Indian Ocean?"

"Yes, I know that very well," she said, with a shade of meaning. "But"--
here I thought her voice had a touch of breathlessness--"but who is the
officer? I mean, what is his name?"