Except with Marian, Edith, as a rule, dominated the situation at all times. Now, however, she found herself absolutely side-tracked, while her friend occupied the center of the stage in the interesting character of past or present object of admiration from three perfectly good men. Men were a hobby with Edith Stevens. Her brother feelingly remarked that the only reason she never married was that no individual male possessed the composite attributes she demanded. To be one of three women, surrounded by five men, and not to be able to command the attention of any one of them except her brother was nothing less than irony. She had tried flirting with Thatcher years before, and had long since given him up in despair; Hamlen was annexed by Marian before she had even a chance to compete, and of the two remaining eligibles Huntington suddenly confessed himself a part of the flotsam her friend had left behind in her beblossomed path toward the altar. "Take one more look at Mr. Cosden, Marian," she said maliciously, as the little party walked slowly down the steps toward the yacht. "Perhaps he, too, was an early admirer." Mrs. Thatcher laughed. "No," she reassured her, "I'm sure he never crossed my horizon until last night. I'll renounce all claims on him, but don't you set your cap for Philip Hamlen; I have other plans for him." "Where is Mr. Hamlen?" Edith demanded. "Didn't you invite him?" "No," Marian replied quickly. "It would be cruel not to give him time to recover his balance after yesterday. Heigh ho!" she sighed. "I wonder whether I'm glad or sorry that I found him here." "I've been waiting for a report on that reunion," Edith said suggestively. "I haven't forgotten the letters which we used to read together years ago." "Weren't they wonderful?" Marian exclaimed. Then she added, after a pause, "I don't believe I realized until yesterday the depth of suffering which a sensitive soul can reach." * * * * * VI * * * * * The sailing-party disembarked at the landing steps of the "Princess" shortly after six o'clock, and were greeted by a tall young man whose face was almost concealed by the broad brim of his hat, turned down as if to protect its owner from possible prostration from the sun. At the opposite end of the young man the white trouser-legs were turned up at least two laps higher than would have been expected, so that hat and trousers together made a normal average. Below the turn-up of the trousers showed a considerable expanse of white-silk hosiery, terminating in spotless white buckskin shoes; below the down-turned hat-brim was a grin which extended well across the boyish face. Altogether, the young man warranted the attention he attracted. The skipper made so perfect a landing that the identity of those on board was disclosed only at the last moment; but the single glance the young man had was sufficient to reassure him, and he stepped forward eagerly.