"It's all in the ship. Build a ship strong enough to withstand lateral pressure of the ice and the whole thing becomes easy." Lloyd yawned and stirred her tea indifferently as she answered: "Yes, but you know that can't be done." Bennett frowned thoughtfully, drumming upon the table. "I'll wager _I_ could build one." "But it's not the ship alone. It's the man. Whom would you get to command your ship?" Bennett stared. "Why, I would take her, of course." "You? You have had your share--your chance. Now you can afford to stay home and finish your book--and--well, you might deliver lectures." "What rot, Lloyd! Can you see me posing on a lecture platform?" "I would rather see you doing that than trying to beat Duane, than getting into the ice again. I would rather see you doing that than to know that you were away up there--in the north, in the ice, at your work again, fighting your way toward the Pole, leading your men and overcoming every obstacle that stood in your way, never giving up, never losing heart, trying to do the great, splendid, impossible thing; risking your life to reach merely a point on a chart. Yes, I would rather see you on a lecture platform than on the deck of an arctic steamship. You know that, Ward." He shot a glance at her. "I would like to know what you mean," he muttered. The winter went by, then the spring, and by June all the country around Medford was royal with summer. During the last days of May, Bennett practically had completed the body of his book and now occupied himself with its appendix. There was little variation in their daily life. Adler became more and more of a fixture about the place. In the first week of June, Lloyd and Bennett had a visitor, a guest; this was Hattie Campbell. Mr. Campbell was away upon a business trip, and Lloyd had arranged to have the little girl spend the fortnight of his absence with her at Medford.