He had believed that he had followed her to England with no feeling more akin to love than when, long before, he used to swim out after her to bring her back when she struck too far from the shore, and when she, not needing his help, swam easily back, teasing him. But this time she had needed his help; and since the incredible, unique, delicious moments of her clinging and appealing to him and his feeling her soft and weak and dependent in his arms, he was certain of very different sensations toward her. For those few moments, at least, she was changed toward him; then had followed their precipitate flight to Glasgow and their days of separation while she kept to her cabin on the ship. Had the change endured with her? He paced anxiously, impatiently, up and down awaiting her appearance. A laugh of amusement, gently raillerous, brought him about. Roberta lay in a steamer chair, reclining comfortably in the Scotch plaid ulster he had bought for her at Glasgow, and with her wavy brown hair caught up under the tam-o’-shanter also there purchased by him. Her cheeks, in contrast with the pallid people in the distant chairs, were ruddy, and her laughing lips full and red. “You’re a convincing-looking invalid for having been confined to your cabin since we left Scotland,” he greeted her instinctively in their old, accustomed manner, to which she had returned. He dropped into one of the empty chairs near her. “I suppose you were dressed when you got my note?” “What note?” “Why, my line ten minutes ago telling you that you could come on deck now.” “Thank you! I went to breakfast at seven in the main saloon--about half an hour before you were up, I fancy. I tramped about a while, and have been here since.” “I see. So you heard that my substitute for you has been really identified as you on board the _Corinthian_?” “Nice of her to go through with it,” Roberta granted; “but I hadn’t heard anything except that I hadn’t hurt that Reedy man and his wife at all. They’ve both been found safe; so I only did what I had meant to do.” “You merely burned down the armory, you mean?” “Yes--just property; so I saw no reason for keeping cooped up in that stuffy cabin any longer.” Andy angered. “What’s the game, Roberta?” “Game?” in surprise.