Then one or two of the passengers came in, and they waited until the engines stopped and they heard the tug's paddles. Wyndham got on his feet awkwardly and waved back Marston, who had meant to give him his arm. His face was very pinched, but his eyes were bright, and as they went out he forced a smile. A big electric lamp hung from the spar-deck and threw down a searching light. The tug's gangway was run out and people began to come on board. Marston saw Mabel and his heart beat with mixed emotions as he noted her black dress, for a cablegram had told him Mrs. Hilliard was dead. He was unselfishly sorry for Mabel, but she had met the last claim of duty and he had waited long. Then Flora stepped down from the gangway and went straight across the deck to Wyndham, who stood under the lamp. The strong light touched their faces and Marston imagined the corners of Flora's mouth twitched. This was all; her step was swift and eager and her eyes shone with tender welcome. She was very brave. Marston saw no pity in her look; there was nothing but gladness and love. "My dear!" she cried, and Wyndham took her in his feeble arms. A few moments afterwards Mabel gave Marston her hand and when he had gazed at her his glance rested on her black dress. "I'm sorry. Very sorry; I think you understand!" "I know, Bob," said Mabel. "You thought about me; you don't think much about yourself. But I must speak to Harry." She left him and he was filled with tenderness and pride as he watched her greet Wyndham. Her smile was frank and her voice was sympathetic, but one got no hint of pity that might jar a sensitive nerve. Mabel struck the right note, and Marston knew it was not all good-breeding that guided her. He loved her for the human kindness she gave his comrade. When they went down the gangway Wyndham was forced to lean on Marston's arm. A car was waiting at the floating bridge that led to the pier-head and Marston helped Wyndham in. "I'll go to the office early and report to you in the evening," he said. "You must take things easy and not bother at all." Flora and Chisholm got in and when they drove off Marston took Mabel's hand. "If you don't mind, we'll walk to the top. I want to look about and realize I'm at home. I feel like a boy who has just come back from his first term at school." "Was it very hard, Bob?" Mabel asked, sympathetically. Marston smiled. "It was foreign, if you understand, and that was worse. Plots, gloom, sickness, and mystery that made you savage because you didn't know if you were being cleverly cheated or not. Sometimes I half believed the Bat was a magician. In fact, it was all from which a sober fellow revolts." "Yet you were strong enough to carry out the job you hated. That is much, Bob."