As for the other people at the table Hamil began to distinguish one from another by degrees; the fair-haired Anans, sister and brother, who spoke of their celebrated uncle, Winslow Anan, and his predictions concerning Hamil as his legitimate successor; Marjorie Staines, willowy, active, fresh as a stem of white jasmine, and inconsequent as a very restless bird; Philip Gatewood, grave, thin, prematurely saddened by the responsibility of a vast inheritance, consumed by a desire for an artistic career, looking at the world with his owlish eyes through the prismatic colors of a set palette. There were others there whom as yet he had been unable to differentiate; smiling, well-mannered, affable people who chattered with more or less intimacy among themselves as though accustomed to meeting one another year after year in this winter rendezvous. And everywhere he felt the easy, informal friendliness and goodwill of these young people. "Are you being amused?" asked Shiela beside him. "My father's orders, you know," she added demurely. They stood up as Mrs. Carrick rose and left the table followed by the others; and he looked at Shiela expecting her to imitate her sister's example. As she did not, he waited beside her, his cigarette unlighted. Presently she bent over the table, extended her arm, and lifted a small burning lamp of silver toward him; and, thanking her, he lighted his cigarette. "Siesta?" she asked. "No; I feel fairly normal." "That's abnormal in Florida. But if you really don't feel sleepy--if you really don't--we'll get the _Gracilis_--our fastest motor-boat--and run down to the Beach Club and get father. Shall we--just you and I?" "And the engineer?" "I'll run the _Gracilis_ if you will steer," she said quietly. "I'll do whichever you wish, Calypso, steer or run things." She looked up with that quick smile which seemed to transfigure her into something a little more than mortal. "Why in the world have I ever been afraid of you?" she said. "Will you come? I think our galley is in commission.... Once I told you that Calypso was a land-nymph. But--time changes us all, you know--and as nobody reads the classics any longer nobody will perceive the anachronism." "Except ourselves." "Except ourselves, Ulysses; and we'll forgive each other." She took a step out from the shadow of the oaks' foliage into the white sunlight and turned, looking back at him. And he followed, as did his heroic namesake in the golden noon of the age of fable. As they came in sight of the sea he halted. "That's curious!" he exclaimed; "there is the _Ariani_ again!" "The yacht you came on?" "Yes. I wonder if there's been an accident. She cleared for Miami last night." They stood looking at the white steamer for a moment. "I hope everything's all right with the _Ariani_" he murmured; then turned to the girl beside him. "By the way I have a message for you from a man on board; I forgot to deliver it." "A message for _me_?"