"That iss goot und bad," he said, when she had finished. "I am glad und sorry. Q'varrels between sisters are very bad. But Mr. Wood is der von to settle der business. He iss in love mit Paula und he vill marry mit her, und dey vill be very, very happy. Cécile does not care for him, but perhaps she t'inks she does, und for that reason you haf done very wr'rong to say vat you did. It vas unkind und unjust und unladylike ... und you vill go down at vonce und ask her par'rdon." "I won't...!" "Go, Hermione...!" And Hermione turned, without a word, to the companionway. As she entered Cécile's room, she saw that her sister had been crying. This softened Hermione and made her apology spontaneous. "I'm sorry, Cécile," said she. "I was angry and spoke without thinking. Will you forgive me?" Cécile nodded, and her grey eyes filled. "You don't really think it, Hermione?" "No. If you say you care for Huntington, I believe you. But I do not believe that you care one hundredth part as much as Paula does. Oh, Cécile, why don't you keep out of it?" Cécile looked thoughtfully at her sister and nodded. "I am going to," said she. "I have been thinking it over and have come to the conclusion that I was a cat. I will tell Paula so. Don't let us talk about it; I'm awfully ashamed. What is going on above?" "Fog and calm," said Hermione, pleased at getting off the topic. "Uncle Chris is worrying about the Pilot-fish. So am I." Cécile knit her brows. She had honestly determined to give up Huntington Wood, and had rather consoled herself by thinking that she would at least "take it out" of the Pilot-fish. And now, here was Hermione confessing to an anxiety for this self-sufficient young man. Poor Cécile felt that she was navigating shallow and uncharted waters. "What are _you_ worrying for, Hermione?" "I don't like to think of Applebo out here in that little tub. We are in a silly business, _I_ think." "No sillier than he is." "It's undignified. Papa gives him a dare and he takes it. Suppose he were to come to grief, how would we feel?" "I don't see that we are to blame if a silly young man in a sixty-foot yawl tries to stay with a big sea-going schooner. It's rather cheeky of him, _I_ think." "It's a game" ... Hermione knit her brows ... "and not one that I care for. I like Applebo. Besides" ... her tint deepened a trifle ... "he's the only man I ever met to give me a thrill." "Hermione!" "It's nothing to be ashamed of. He fascinates me, and I like him, too. He is something between a tiger and a great boy. When he leaped on that pig of a keeper he was the tiger, tawny and fierce, and swift and strong...." Hermione's eyes kindled, and the light in them found its reflection in those of Cécile. Her breath came more quickly. "And the boy?" she asked. Hermione laughed, and her colour spread to the tips of her little ears. "When he kissed me good-bye..."