They circumnavigate the whole globe,--” here he put the gathered shawl into the fingers which she stretched through his arm to take it, and she said, “Oh, thank you!”--“but they don't describe the sea. War and plague and famine submit to the ameliorations of science,”--the closely drawn shawl pressed her against his shoulder; his mind wandered; he hardly knew what he was saying,--“but the one utterly inexorable calamity--the same now as when the first sail was spread--is a shipwreck.” “Yes,” she said, with a deep inspiration. And now they walked back and forth in silence broken only by a casual word or desultory phrase. Once Staniford had thought the conditions of these promenades perilously suggestive of love-making; another time he had blamed himself for not thinking of this; now he neither thought nor blamed himself for not thinking. The fact justified itself, as if it had been the one perfectly right and wise thing in a world where all else might be questioned. “Isn't it pretty late?” she asked, at last. “If you're tired, we'll sit down,” he said. “What time is it?” she persisted. “Must I look?” he pleaded. They went to a lantern, and he took out his watch and sprang the case open. “Look!” he said. “I sacrifice myself on the altar of truth.” They bent their heads low together over the watch; it was not easy to make out the time. “It's nine o'clock,” said Staniford. “It can't be; it was half past when I came up,” answered Lydia. “One hand's at twelve and the other at nine,” he said, conclusively. “Oh, then it's a quarter to twelve.” She caught away her hand from his arm, and fled to the gangway. “I didn't dream it was so late.” The pleasure which her confession brought to his face faded at sight of Hicks, who was turning the last pages of a novel by the cabin lamp, as he followed Lydia in. It was the book that Staniford had given her. “Hullo!” said Hicks, with companionable ease, looking up at her. “Been having quite a tramp.” She did not seem troubled by the familiarity of an address that incensed Staniford almost to the point of taking Hicks from his seat, and tossing him to the other end of the cabin. “Oh, you've finished my book,” she said. “You must tell me how you like it, to-morrow.” “I doubt it,” said Hicks. “I'm going to be seasick to-morrow. The captain's been shaking his head over the barometer and powwowing with the first officer. Something's up, and I guess it's a gale. Good-by; I shan't see you again for a week or so.” He nodded jocosely to Lydia, and dropped his eyes again to his book, ignoring Staniford's presence. The latter stood a moment breathing quick; then he controlled himself and went into his room. His coming roused Dunham, who looked up from his pillow. “What time is it?” he asked, stupidly. “Twelve,” said Staniford. “Had a pleasant walk?” “If you still think,” said Staniford, savagely, “that she's painfully interested in you, you can make your mind easy. She doesn't care for either of us.”