“The storm will increase,” I replied, “according to the lore of my neighbors, until full tide. In such matters their lore is older than my learning. As for the spindle, it will go or it will hold fast as it is ordained for it. If it hold fast, well; and if it go down, why,--that will be well enough, too. At least, I shall have dined. I wish that I might ask you to dine with me, Eve. We shall have roast mutton, with corn, and potatoes, and--whatever else the wind has left. And a steamed pudding, after. It is not fashionable, but it will be good. My cook makes excellent steamed puddings. And a dinner eaten alone--it is a lonely meal.” Again Eve laughed, then sighed. I know that she sighed, for I saw her; I could not hear. “I should love it, Adam,” she said, “but you know I may not.” “Love what, Eve?” I asked. “The steamed pudding?” “No doubt,” she answered, “for now that you have reminded me, I am hungry, too. But you know that was not what I meant. I should love to dine with you in your own house. But it will not be long--there will not be many more lonely dinners”-- She hesitated and stopped. But I knew. “Let us count them,” I said. “Let us see how many.” And again the storm was forgot, and the great wind that blew. And so she went in, and I tramped home, in the rain, along the shore. But my dinner was too quickly eaten for a clammer, and I thanked a kind Heaven that there were not many more such--there were far too many, but they could be counted--there were less than a hundred. And having bolted my dinner, which deserved better of me, I hurried back to the bank, and there stood Eve, and she smiled to see me come along the shore. “Eve,” I observed, “see now for what you are responsible. For, dining alone, I did but bolt my dinner, for I would not miss a minute of your company. And thereby I risked dyspepsia. And that is not the worst, for the ills that follow hard upon it are these: melancholy and an evil disposition; and backbiting and gossip, and, in short, all the qualities which you see in my neighbors. And”-- But she was laughing. “Is that not enough?” she asked. “I would not be responsible for more, and I promise to give you an hour for your dinner--hereafter. You will have no need to hurry back, for I shall not be here sooner. But this is an exception. We shall not have such another storm, surely, in the next”-- Again she stopped. “Look, Adam, can you see the spindle? Is it gone?” I looked. The tide was risen now, so that only now and then, between the great seas that came, could I catch a glimpse of it; and I saw that it was bent almost even with the rock. It would be useless for its purpose even if it held, and the tide that was coming would be very high. Even now the waves lapped about my feet as I stood upon the sand, and the seaweed washed against the bank, and it lacked an hour of high tide. I feared for the pebbles, that they would no more shine in the sun.