little landing-stage and below, before the club-house. And some two hundred yards out, the lights began again, gleaming from hundreds of boats and little vessels of all rigs and builds. Between these seaward lights and those on land a deep black void stretched away up Frenchman's Bay.
Miss Cordelia started nervously at the rockets, but said nothing. Fanny sat beside her in silence. The sailor, only visible distinctly when the lights were behind him, pulled softly and steadily, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to see that the way was clear. The other skiffs kept near, both Brinsley and Lawrence being keenly on the lookout for a change. Now and then Fanny could hear them talking.
"I wonder why one voice should attract one and another should be disagreeable," she said at last, in a meditative tone.
"I was thinking of the same thing," answered Cordelia, thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Fanny, absently. "Of course you were," she added, a moment later. "I mean—" She paused. "Poor dear!" she exclaimed at
