That was the substance of the whole matter. He must never forget it. The human values which he had met in these were secret in thousands, perhaps in millions, of hearts, and needed only breaking open by stress and revelation--to bring the millennium to old Mother Earth, and open her skies for the plan of joy. Bellair impressed this upon his mind again, so he would not forget--then fell asleep. She was first awake in the distance-clearing light. She arose carefully, so as not to awaken the men and the child, and stared long in every quarter. There was no ship, no land, no cloud; and yet a trace of happiness on her thin face, as she sat down. Fleury was rousing. She had expected that; for through their strange sympathy several times before he had awakened with her, or soon after. She bent forward and whispered a good-morning, and added: “It is gone----” “Surely?” “Yes.” “Thank God.” The preacher breathed deeply, contemplated their faces one after another. From Bellair lying in the stern, his eyes turned significantly to the woman’s, and his own lit with zeal.... Bellair was on the borderland then, coming up through the fathoms of dream. Already he felt the heat; the sun had imparted its ache to his eyes. The three were half-blinded by the long brilliance of the cloudless days on the sea.... Bellair was trying to speak, but could not because of the parch in his throat. Moreover, no thoughts could hold him--not even Bessie. She came to mind, pink and ineffectual, lost in her childish things. She had failed this way before.... There was a cup to his lips. He smelled the water, and wanted it as he wanted decency and truth--as he wanted to be brave and fit to be one of the three. It almost crazed him, the way he wanted it--but it would be taking it from her. All the violence of one-pointed will was against the cup. He pushed it away. “Don’t, Bellair,” said Fleury. “You’ll spill it. Drink----” “I won’t. Take it away.” “You must drink. It is yours.” “Yes, he must drink,” said the woman. Bellair sat up. Fleury was holding the cup to his lips. “It is gone from behind,” said the preacher. “Drink your water. I have. I will speak to you after you drink.” He stared at them, and at the open sea behind her. Then it came to him, as if from Fleury’s mind, to obey.... Fleury then served the woman. They ate a cracker together; at least it seemed so. Then Fleury spoke: