"So we may," cried Sir Mark eagerly. "Does she look nice?" "Lovely, uncle; all but--" The girl ceased speaking, and looked conscious. "Eh? All but what?" "You will see, uncle, directly. I will not say any more about it. She would have her own way." "Here, I'll come at once." "No, no, uncle dear; I'll go and fetch her down." "And make a parade of her all through this confounded caravanserai of an hotel!" cried the old man testily. "I can't think why she persisted in having it away from home." "Yes, you can, uncle dear," said the girl soothingly. "It was very, very natural. But do, do be gentle with her. She is so ready to burst into tears, and I want her to go off as happy as the day." "Of course, Edie, my dear; of course. I'll bottle it all up, and then you and your old fool of an uncle can have a good cry together all to ourselves, eh? But I say, little one, no hitches this time in the anchorage." "There very nearly was one, uncle." "What!" roared the old man, flushing. "But I set it right with a telegram." "What--what was it? Stratton going to shuffle?" "Oh, uncle, absurd! The bouquet for the bride had not come." "Pooh! A woman can be married without a bouquet." "No, no, uncle! But I sent off a message, and Mr Guest brought it himself." "Then he has been again." "Uncle! Why, he's Malcolm Stratton's best man." "He's the worst man I know. I loathe him." "You don't, uncle." "Yes, I do, and I'm not blind. Do you suppose I want to be left to a desolate old age. Isn't it bad enough to lose Myra without--" "Oh, uncle!" cried the girl, whose cheeks were crimson, "there isn't a moment to lose;" and she darted to the door, leaving the admiral chuckling. "A wicked little pirate! How soon she showed the red flag aloft. Ah, well, it's nature--nature, and one mustn't be selfish. Not much chance. I don't know what we're born for, unless it's to be slaves to other people." He turned over his newspaper, and began running down the list of marriages. "Here they are," he muttered, "all going the same way," and he stood musing sadly upon the question of the young women's quitting the old hives, till the door was opened again and Edie Perrin ushered in her cousin, tall, graceful, and with that indescribable look of love and happiness seen in a bride's eyes on her wedding morn. "Here she is, uncle," cried Edie, who then uttered a sob, and rushed away with a rustling noise to hide the tears she could not restrain. "My darling!" cried the old man huskily as he drew his child to his breast; "and am I to feel that it is quite right, and that you are happy?" "Oh, so happy, father; so content at last--at last," she whispered as she clung to him lovingly. "Only there is one thing." "Eh? What--what?" cried the admiral excitedly. "Leaving home and you." The old man drew a deep breath full of relief.