"What did you say the name was?" he asked innocently. Until now he
hadn't had the courage to put the question to any one, or to prowl
around the purser's books.

"Annesley; Colonel Annesley and daughter," answered the unsuspecting
steward.

Warburton knew nothing then of the mental tragedy going on behind the
colonel's state-room door. How should he have known? On the contrary,
he believed that the father of such a girl must be a most knightly
and courtly gentleman. He _was_, in all outward appearance.
There had been a time, not long since, when he had been knightly and
courtly in all things.

Surrounding every upright man there is a mire, and if he step not
wisely, he is lost. There is no coming back; step by step he must go
on and on, till he vanishes and a bubble rises over where he but
lately stood. That he misstepped innocently does not matter; mire and
evil have neither pity nor reason. To spend what is not ours and then
to try to recover it, to hide the guilty step: this is futility. From
the alpha men have made this step; to the omega they will make it,
with the same unchanging futility. After all, it _is_ money.
Money _is_ the root of all evil; let him laugh who will, in his
heart of hearts he knows it.

Money! Have you never heard that siren call to you, call seductively
from her ragged isle, where lurk the reefs of greed and selfishness?
Money! What has this siren not to offer? Power, ease, glory, luxury;
aye, I had almost said love! But, no; love is the gift of God, money