But it was not quite all, for Cécile rushed to the old viking and flung her young arms about his neck and kissed the first exposed spot she could find on the deep-lined, bearded face. Then she stepped back and surveyed him through misty eyes. "When I meet a man like you," said she, and caught her breath, "he will find out that I am something more than a flirt." And she turned and fled below. Hardly had she disappeared when the captain's alert, if somewhat blurred, vision was caught by a yacht's dinghy rapidly approaching the _Shark_. Picking up his glasses he at once discovered, sitting in the stern of the boat, a young man whom he recognised as a Mr. Huntington Wood and who had been the previous summer one of Cécile's most devoted suitors. When the caprice of the spoiled beauty had sent him eddying in her wake with the other wrecks, Heldstrom had sighed deeply. He had liked and admired Wood, finding him all that a well-bred young American ought to be. Included amongst these virtues was a very large fortune, and Captain Heldstrom had been deeply disappointed that Cécile could not have found it in her heart to care for him. Seeing that Wood was coming to call, Heldstrom sent the steward to inform Cécile, then received the guest himself, there being no one of the family on deck. Wood was a clean-cut, thoroughbred-looking man of about twenty-eight. Perhaps his greatest attraction lay in the thoughtful kindliness of expression which was habitual to him. There was humour, also, and the typical American alertness. As Wood and Heldstrom exchanged their greetings there came from forward a sort of buzz of suppressed excitement. The hands were peering intently into the dazzling reflection of the sun on the water at the harbour-mouth. Captain Heldstrom quickly levelled his glass in that direction, then laid it down with a shrug and a shake of the head. "What is it?" Wood asked. "Der Pilot-fish, zir," answered the sailor. "What do you mean?" Heldstrom was about to reply when Cécile came up through the companion and Wood went to meet her. She greeted him with a rather quizzical smile. Wood flushed. "You were right," said he. "Here I am back again in less than six months." "We have missed you," said Cécile, and led the way aft. "Thank you. I have come back, not as a suitor, but as a friend." "Still bitter?" "Not in the least." "I heard," remarked Cécile, with a little laugh, "that you were building a Home for Sick Babies." "That is true. My cure for bitterness ... and not a bad thing for the babies. If all of your rejected lovers would only turn to philanthropy for their cure what a lot of good you would do." "That is a nasty remark." "Sorry. Let's drop personalities. How are you all?" "Papa's asthma is better. He has taken a tremendous fad for cooking, and spends most of his time stewing over the galley stove. This seems to be a good thing for him, though bad for us. The cook's wages have had to be raised."