We were alone together. The dinner-bell rang downstairs, but Tom never left the bridge till he was out of the river, and I did not need to ask him to let me share his meal. The steward brought us up a tray, and we stood in the warm little cabin--the table was not made to sit at--and ate roast chicken and apple pie, like travellers at a railway buffet, Tom stepping out and back between hasty mouthfuls to see that all was right. He was intensely business-like, and as happy as a boy at his old work. We both had the young feeling that comes to holiday-makers who don't have a holiday very often. I could not help it. Then--when we steamed out between the river lights into the bay--how we sniffed the first breath of the salt sea! And what memories it brought to us!--to me, at least, who had been so long away from it. The passengers were at dinner still, and it was falling dark, and there were no spectators save the man at the wheel, who was nothing but a voice, an echo of the quiet word of command, most pleasant to hear; I was free to roam the bridge from end to end, hanging to my husband's supporting arm--to bathe myself in air that was literally new life to both of us. Cold and clean and briny to the lips--oh, what is there to equal it in the way of medicine for soul and body? What sort of insensate creatures can they be who do not love the sea? Hobson's Bay was ruffled with a south wind--belted round with twinkling lights that grew thicker and brighter every moment, a gleaming ring of stars set in the otherwise invisible shores, in a dusk as soft as velvet. Somewhere amongst them, doubtless, was the lighted window that had once been mine, where I used to stand half a dozen lamps and candles in a bunch, to show Tom that I was watching for him when he used to pass out after nightfall. Our eyes turned in that direction simultaneously. "When we are old folks, Polly," said he, with an arm round my shoulder, "when the kids are all grown up and out in the world, and you and I settle down alone again, as we did at the beginning, I should like us to have a little place somewhere where we could see blue water and the ships going by." "Yes," I said at once, feeling exactly as he did--that though the farm and our country home were well enough under present circumstances, they would not be our choice when we had only ourselves to think of--that the sea was the sea, in short, and had reclaimed our allegiance--"yes, that is what we will do. We will end our married life where we began it--with this beautiful sound in our ears!"