make the best of it."

"Well, look here, Laura, you put it in your work-basket," cried Hector
Spurling. "You shall be my banker, and if the rightful owner turns up
then I can refer him to you. If not, I suppose we must look on it as a
kind of salvage-money, though I am bound to say I don't feel entirely
comfortable about it." He rose to his feet, and threw the note down
into the brown basket of coloured wools which stood beside her.
"Now, Laura, I must up anchor, for I promised the governor to be back by
nine. It won't be long this time, dear, and it shall be the last.
Good-bye, Robert! Good luck!"

"Good-bye, Hector! _Bon voyage!_"

The young artist remained by the table, while his sister followed her
lover to the door. In the dim light of the hall he could see their
figures and overhear their words.

"Next time, little girl?"

"Next time be it, Hector."

"And nothing can part us?"

"Nothing."

"In the whole world?"

"Nothing."