David smiled. "Quite sure. I would not risk losing one of your letters." "You do care that I should write?" "I count on it," replied David. "And you will write to me?" "Undoubtedly I will." "Quite soon?" "I will begin a letter to-morrow, and tell you whether Martin's mate has any children; and, if so, whether they have had the measles." "It would be more to the point to tell me whether he takes proper care of you. David--I wish you were not going!" A look leapt into David's eyes as of a drowning man sinking for the third and last time, who suddenly sees a rope dangling almost within his reach. "Why?" "I don't know. It seems so far. Are you sure you are quite well? Why are you so ghastly white?" "Quite well," smiled David. "We cannot all have Mrs. Vane's fine colour. Bid her good-bye for me." All who were going, seemed to have gone. The gangway was empty. Passengers crowded to the side of the ship, waving in tearful silence, or gaily shouting last words, to friends lined up on the dock. "All ashore!" shouted the sailor in charge of the gangway, looking at Diana. She moved toward it, slowly; David at her side. "Look here," said David, speaking hurriedly; "I should hate to watch you standing alone in that crowd, while we slowly pull out into mid-stream. Don't do it. Don't wait to see us go. I would so much rather you went straight to your car. It is just within sight. I shall see William arrange the rug, and shut you in. I shall be able to watch you actually safely on your way to Riverscourt; which will be much better than gradually losing sight of you in the midst of a crowd of strange faces. You don't know how long-drawn-out these dock partings are. Will you--will you do as I ask?" "Why of course, I will, David," she said. "It is the only thing you have bidden me do since I promised to obey." Her lips trembled. "I hate saying good-bye, David. And you really look ill. I wish I had insisted on seeing Martin's mate." "I'm all right," said David, with dry lips. "Don't you worry." "All ashore!" remarked the sailor, confidentially, in their direction. Diana placed one foot on the gangway; then turned, and put her hand into David's. "Good-bye, David," said Diana. His deep eyes looked hungrily into her face--one last long earnest look. Then he loosed her hand, and bent over her, as she began to descend the gangway. "Good-bye--_my wife_"--said David Rivers. CHAPTER XXII DIANA WINS The steady hum, and rapid onward rush, of the motor were a physical relief to Diana, after the continuous strain of the happenings of that eventful day. She lay back, watching the flying houses, hedges, trees, and meadows,--and allowed every nerve to relax. She felt so thankful it was all over, and that she was going home--alone.