invigorating air in the world except that which blows on the Baltic
shores.

"I prefer Farlingford. I am half a Clubbe--and the other half!--
Heaven knows what that is! The offshoot of some forgotten seedling
blown away from France by a great storm. If my father knew, he
never said anything. And if he knew, and said nothing, one may be
sure that it was because he was ashamed of what he knew. You never
saw him, or you would have known his dread of France, or anything
that was French. He was a man living in a dream. His body was here
in Farlingford, but his mind was elsewhere--who knows where? And at
times I feel that, too--that unreality--as if I were here, and
somewhere else at the same time. But all the same, I prefer
Farlingford, even if it is a dream."

The moon had risen at last; a waning half-moon, lying low and yellow
in the sky, just above the horizon, casting a feeble light on earth.
Loo turned and looked at Miriam, who had always met his glance with
her thoughtful, steady eyes. But now she turned away.

"Farlingford is best, at all events," he said, with an odd
conviction. "I am only the grandson of old Seth Clubbe, of Maiden's
Grave. I am a Farlingford sailor, and that is all. I am mate of
'The Last Hope'--at your service."

"You are more than that."

He made a step nearer to her, looking down at her white face,
averted from him. For her voice had been uncertain--unsteady--as if
she were speaking against her will.