Mrs. Thatcher, still affected by her last sight of Hamlen, was glad to sit down beside her friend while the others walked up and down the decks, watching the passing panorama of the shore, knowing that it would last too short a time at best. "Marian," Edith said suddenly, "I have a presentiment that I shall die of seasickness on this trip home, and there is something I want to say to you while I can." "No one ever died of seasickness, child," Marian laughed; "but if you have something serious on your conscience the sooner you get it off the better." "It's Mr. Cosden," Edith explained. "I noticed that something had gone wrong in that quarter. Has he escaped you, after all?" "It is really too bad of you to take advantage of me when I'm so ill!" "My poor Edith!" Marian said soothingly, "forgive me, dear; I forgot your serious condition for the moment. Tell me about Mr. Cosden." "He is impossible," the invalid announced. "I really thought there was some hope for him until a few days ago, but he is so frightfully commercial that he crocks." "He--what?" "It comes off on everything he touches. He can't look at anything from any other standpoint. It's a tragic disappointment to me, and I think it just as well that I am going to expire from this awful seasickness. I really thought I could train him, but he's too crude. That is the only word to use." "He can't be that or he couldn't be Monty Huntington's friend. I rather like him. He's blunt and matter-of-fact and all that; but I like to see a man with confidence in himself." "I have an idea that Mr. Huntington has somewhat revised his opinions. I certainly have; and whatever anybody else may think I agree with myself." "That ought to be comforting to you, my dear; but I'm really sorry things haven't pulled through this time. I'm afraid it's your last chance. What did he do that was crude,--refuse to propose?" Edith sat bolt upright, her cheeks flaming, with all signs of her recent indisposition vanished. "I hate you in that tantalizing mood, Marian Thatcher! You always put the meanest interpretation on everything! Of course he proposed, but he didn't do it in a nice way; he just figured it out as if it was one of his business deals, and made me feel as if I ought to go right to the shipping department and get packed up." "My dear Edith," Marian expostulated; "you mustn't be so fastidious. It doesn't make so much difference how these men propose; the main thing is to have them do it. Truly, I'm disappointed in you! Here you have been working desperately to lead him to a point where he would let you put the ball and chain on him, and then, for some silly little reason, you let him get away from you! Really, I'm disappointed! From what I've seen, you two seem admirably suited to each other." "You don't understand, Marian," she protested; "he made this trip for the express purpose of picking out a wife--" "In Bermuda? Why couldn't he find one nearer home?"