where the sun had sunk, and there was—dampness in the air that seemed to presage a change in the weather. Well, anyhow, they had had a perfect trip so far. One day of rain would n’t matter so much. Already she had seen shore birds flying about the ship, and one or two lines of smoke on the distant circle told her that they were converging upon the course of other western bound steamers. Soon the red eye of Fire Island light-ship would begin to blink, soon the Statue of Liberty would raise its burning torch and the tall buildings on the end of Manhattan would poke their heads above the sea. And then dust, motor gas, the confusion and clatter of New York—and—Trevelyan! She gave a shrug of disgust. It sickened her to have lost a thousand dollars to Ashurst and that trim snip from Boston,—that conceited child who thought existence beyond the purlieus of Beacon Street and the North Shore quite impossible. And Cosmo? What of him? Would they come down the harbor with a squad of officers and put the “bracelets” on him in view of the whole crowd of gossiping passengers? Would the papers print full page stories about Roakby and Parsley Croft, with
