have been engaged once, I confess it. I made a mistake, and I am sorry
for it. There is surely nothing criminal in that."

"It depends."

"Depends on what?"

"It depends on how the other party feels about it. It takes two to make
an engagement, and it should take two to break it."

"Well, it didn't in my case," said the young man.

"So I understand," replied Miss Earle. "Mr. Morris, I wish you a very
good evening." And before he could say a word she had disappeared in the
darkness, leaving him to ponder bitterly over the events of the evening.


SIXTH DAY.

In the vague hope of meeting Miss Earle, Morris rose early, and for a
while paced the deck alone; but she did not appear. Neither did he have
the pleasure of her company at breakfast. The more the young man thought
of their interview of the previous evening, the more puzzled he was.

Miss Earle had frankly confessed that she thought a great deal of him,
and yet she had treated him with an unfeelingness which left him sore
and bitter. She might have refused him; that was her right, of course.
But she need not have done it so sarcastically. He walked the deck after
breakfast, but saw nothing of Miss Earle. As he paced up and down, he
met the very person of all others whom he did not wish to meet. "Good