The fisherman, having succeeded in getting the last crab in the
kettle of boiling water, came forward smiling and began to
explain the curios.

"Then you have not always lived at Pass Christian," said Philip.

"Mais non, monsieur, I am spending a summer here."

"And he spends his winters, doubtless, selling fish in the French
market," spitefully soliloquised Philip.

The fisherman was looking unutterable things into Annette's eyes,
and, it seemed to Philip, taking an unconscionably long time
explaining the use of an East Indian stiletto.

"Oh, wouldn't it be delightful!" came from Annette at last.

"What?" asked Philip.

"Why, Monsieur LeConte says he'll take six of us out in his
catboat tomorrow for a fishing-trip on the Gulf."

"Hum," drily.

"And I'll get Natalie and her cousins."

"Yes," still more drily.

Annette chattered on, entirely oblivious of the strainedness of
the men's adieux, and still chattered as they drove through the