"Poor little girl!" he said simply; so simply, so kindly, that there could be no offence in the familiarity. "I was afraid you had given yourself a stiff road to hoe. I've had experience in these cases, and know something about the difficulties. The trouble is that like many reformers you are beginning at the wrong end, trying to doctor his mind, whereas it's his body that is sick. Drink is a physical disease, and it's hard luck on its victims that public opinion refuses to realise the fact. Imagine a fellow being called a beast--a degraded beast, disgraceful, disgusting--all the usual terms, because he was suffering from tuberculosis or heart disease! It's unthinkable, but a poor wretch who has to fight against a physical craving as fierce as the claws of a wild beast, tearing him, literally tearing, not to be quenched except by the very poison which is going to set him craving again,--for one kindly, pitying thought, he gets a hurricane of abuse! You and I know better. We don't judge; we pity the poor fellow from the bottom of our hearts, but I say--" suddenly his voice changed to a crisp, boylike note, "don't let's talk about him to-night! It's such a ripping night. We can do him no good. Then why spoil our own time? Let's talk about happy things!" He threw away his cigarette as he spoke, leaned his arms on the rail, and turned his face towards hers with a twinkling appeal. They were close together, and the smiling interchange of glance seemed a good and pleasant thing. Katrine was almost ashamed of the speed with which the mental load slipped away, and disappeared; one glance into the keen grey eyes, and it had vanished into space. It was good to stand in the warm night, looking out at the glory of the star-lit heavens, at the ripple of phosphorous on the water, but the beauties of nature were but a secondary cause for the content which enfolded her. The primary cause was the presence of the man by her side, the big man with the grave face, and the clear, boylike eyes. Katrine was not given to hasty friendships, but in this case there seemed no preliminary stages to live through, for the moment of meeting had acclaimed a mental understanding, which years of intimacy might have failed to ensure. She forgot that she had been unhappy, and laughed a soft, girlish little laugh, the tinkle of which struck strangely on her own ears. Such a girlish laugh! "Oh, yes! Let's! That will be nice... What shall we talk about?" "Ourselves, of course," he said promptly; and at that they laughed again. Katrine tilted her head, and met his eyes with a frank, gay glance. "Wasn't it Isabel Carnaby who said that there was really no other subject to talk about but ourselves, just as there was really no other dish than bacon for breakfast?" "What about Lloyd George?" They laughed gaily, laughed into each other's eyes with a sense of intimacy which sent the spirits racing upwards with a mysterious intoxication.