"Why not?" "Because--I've changed my mind about it--I've really nothing to tell you--and every woman has a right to change her mind." She tried to say it saucily, but was not successful, and he, vaguely relieved, responded, "I'm glad--that you are not troubled," kissed her lightly on her forehead, and went away. And she looked after him and sighed, and wondered if all the years which stretched before them would be as dreary as this. The arrival of the little captain broke in upon her thoughts. "You give her these," he said. "I can't stay a minute. I'm going out with Anthony for a day's fishin'." He rushed away, leaving Bettina with her arms full of pink roses. She took them in to Miss Matthews. "Letty," she said, "the captain brought them. Isn't he romantic? He is making pink your color. I think it's dear of him." Miss Matthews blushed. "I'd surely never have picked out Captain Stubbs for the romantic kind, but you never can tell." "No, you never can tell," Betty agreed, and stood looking idly out of the window. All at once she gave startled attention. "Letty," she said, "Justin is flying." Miss Matthews, half asleep, murmured, "Well, I'm glad you're not with him," and Bettina, recalled to her obligations to the invalid, answered with assumed carelessness, "So am I," and measured out Miss Matthews' medicine, and talked no more. But her heart was beating madly as she followed his flight. He was up there--alone. Up there in that wonderful world! Was he thinking of her? Was he hearing, again, those celestial harmonies? To-day there was no sunshine--but as he circled against the background of moving clouds her thoughts went to that wild hawk in "the wind swept sky." She knew nothing of the danger. She did not know that, as yet, his machine was not perfected to a point where it could brave with immunity such weather as was threatened by the brooding sky. She only saw his flight--and her hurt heart craved the place which had been hers for a few brief moments of rapture. When at last he was out of sight, she went about her little duties, but came back again and again to the window, watching for the time when he should reappear. Anthony and the captain, half-way across the harbor, said things about Justin's recklessness, and spoke of the danger. "Some day he'll get hurt," was the captain's conclusion, "and then he won't ever fly again." "Yes." Anthony's eyes were following the "Gray Gull," which was now beyond the harbor and heading for the open sea; growing smaller and smaller, it was at last a mere speck on the horizon. Then the captain and Anthony, having reached a place offshore which promised a good catch, put out their lines and entered at once upon that ecstatic state of watchfulness which is the heritage of the true fisherman.