“Oh!” said the captain, struggling nobly with his feelings. “Oh, you will!” “To-morrow,” continued Joan, “I will buy the wedding-ring. I know that that ought to be your business, but I’ll get it, because I know where I can get one cheap. I saw some the other day. Rolled gold they are called. Eighteenpence each.” The captain choked. “Have you considered,” he said, loftily, as soon as he was capable of speech, “that it would be a lie?” Joan nodded, carelessly. “A lie!” repeated Captain Trimblett, in a thrilling voice. “Yes,” said Joan. “I remember I heard you tell father once that if you had a sovereign for every lie you had told you would be able to give up the sea. So you had better do it. You can do it better than I can.” Captain Trimblett threw his hands apart with a sudden supreme gesture. “I won’t listen to another word!” he said, hotly. “I should never hear the end of it. Where are those omnibuses?” “We are not near them yet,” was the reply. “We have been walking away from them. When you have listened to reason I will take you to them.” The captain closed his lips obstinately. He would have closed his ears, too, if he could, but, unable to do that, quickened his pace in a forlorn attempt to outdistance her. She plied him with arguments and entreaties, but in vain. He was immovable. Finally, in a trembling voice, she said that it didn’t matter, and apologized for troubling him with her concerns. “I would do anything in reason, my dear,” said the mollified captain. “It doesn’t matter,” repeated the girl. “It’s quite impossible,” said the captain, gently. “It’s really an outrageous idea. You’ll see it yourself by and by.” Miss Hartley thanked him, and taking out a handkerchief dabbed her eyes gently and made a pathetic attempt to smile. “Don’t say any more about it,” she pleaded. “I have no doubt you are right. Only when you said you would do anything for us I—I thought you meant it. I see how uncomfortable it might be for you. I ought to have thought of that before.” The unfortunate captain turned crimson, but, glancing at the spectacle of resignation by his side, managed to keep his temper under restraint. “I’m not thinking of myself at all,” he growled. “Perhaps you are without knowing it,” suggested Miss Hartley, in a voice free from all trace of personal feeling. “I thought that you would have done a little thing like that for me—and father. I’m sorry I was mistaken. However, I shall go back to Salthaven in any case.” She dabbed a perfectly dry eye again, and watched the captain closely with the other. “I suppose there will be trouble,” she continued, meditatively; “still, that will be your fault. I have done all I could do.”