“You were the only one?” “What?” She lifted her head, rearing it almost, like an aggressive serpent. “You were my Uncle John’s only child?” “No.” The word came full and rounded from her mouth, and the eyes behind the curtaining lashes were somber. “There was a--a brother. He has gone away, a long voyage. He has a passion for the sea.” “That settles it. Another brother of my mother’s, Uncle Thomas, was a captain in the navy. He ran away before he was sixteen; nothing would stop him. Every Crisp has a salt drop in his veins.” “Father, in his most prosperous days, had a little yacht.” “There you are again! The Crisp love for water. Well! I believe from my heart that we really are cousins--Cousin Pamela. I shall tell the folk hereabout that I advertised for my kin--Uncle John or his children--and that you, seeing the advertisement, answered. That will make things easy for us both. And now, cousin”--his voice was meaning, and his handsome open face became roguish and bold--“I ought to kiss you.” She slipped her wrist from his finger and thumb and fell back. She looked at his face--handsome, thin, almost ascetic if it had not been for the tan--with distaste. “A kiss!” she murmured, with a quick, startled breath. “No, no; I couldn’t dream of it.” He seemed pleased at what he assumed to be her modesty. There was a quaint pause, during which he thoughtfully examined her face, picking feature from feature and dwelling most on the downcast lids. Then he said, almost tenderly: “What have you been doing these five years for a living? Cousin Pamela! if only I had known that Uncle John’s child----” “Don’t talk like that. We are not sure. What did I do?” She gave a short, rather grating laugh. “Anything--short of scrubbing floors. I’ve been a governess. I’ve tried to draw fashion-plates--but my drawing was against me there. I’ve collected money for charitable institutions--on commission. I was a companion. She was a publican’s widow with heaps of money--one dare not be too particular. She was queer--a secret drinker I always thought. I had twenty-five pounds a year. She liked me so much that she raised my money at one bound to forty; money was only dirt to her. Forty pounds a year--and she died before the first quarter was due. I have always been unlucky.” “And then?” She shrugged with an artificial callousness. “Looking out. Answering advertisements--until I answered yours.” Directly she mentioned his the shame and outraged modesty in her surged up again.