Rising and a that over the had most of the on the Atlantic to the of their or to the warm of the library. It was the of the voyage. For five days and four nights the ship had been through a on her way to Sandy Hook: but in the early hours of this the wind had to the north, seas. Darkness had to now. The sky was a black. The white of the in the dusk, and the wind sang in the ropes.
Jimmy and Ann had had the boat-deck to themselves for an hour. Jimmy was a good sailor: it him to the wind and to walk a that and and his feet; but he had not to have Ann's company on such an evening. But she had come out of the entrance, her small in a and her a great cloak, and joined him in his walk.
Jimmy was in a mood of exaltation. He had passed the last days in a condition of melancholy, on the that he was not the only man on the Atlantic who the of Ann as an of the of an voyage. The world, when he on this venture, had so of Ann and himself that, until the ship was well on its way to Queenstown, he had not the possibility of males their on her. And it had added to the that their did not appear to be at all unwelcome. Almost after on the very day, a with a small black and teeth had upon Ann and, with and at meeting her again—he claimed, him!, to have met her at Palm Beach, Bar Harbor, and a dozen other places—had her off to play an game as shuffle-board. Nor was this an case. It to be in upon Jimmy that Ann, he had looked upon purely in the light of an Eve playing opposite his Adam in an Garden of Eden, was an well-known and popular character. The at the shipping-office had when he had said that very people were on the Atlantic this voyage. The was till its bulged, it was in of the Plimsoll law, with Rollos and Clarences and Dwights and Twombleys who had and and and and and and with Ann for years. A being Edgar Something or Teddy Something had Jimmy by a in the for the deck-steward, the prize of which was the of his deck-chair next to Ann's. Jimmy had been from the by the of this in reading best-sellers to her.
He had her to speak to since the of the voyage. When she was not walking with Rolly or playing shuffle-board with Twombley, she was to the of a sea-sick aunt, to in as "poor aunt Nesta". Sometimes Jimmy saw the little man—presumably her uncle—in the smoking-room, and once he came upon the boy from the of a cigar in a of the boat-deck: but from these the family was as from him as if he had Ann at all—let alone saved her life.
And now she had on him from heaven. They were alone together with the good clean wind and the scud. Rollo, Clarence, Dwight, and Twombley, not to mention Edgar or possibly Teddy, were below—he hoped, dying. They had the world to themselves.
"I love weather," said Ann, her to the wind. Her were very bright. She was any or question the only girl on earth. "Poor aunt Nesta doesn't. She was when it was calm, but this has her. I've just been below, trying to her up."
Jimmy at the picture. Always fascinating, Ann to him at her best in the role of angel. He to tell her so, but no words. They the end of the deck, and turned. Ann looked up at him.
"I've anything of you since we sailed," she said. She spoke almost reproachfully. "Tell me all about yourself, Mr. Bayliss. Why are you going to America?"
Jimmy had had an of the Rollos on his tongue, but she had closed the opening for it as as she had it. In of her direct for he not to it now. After all, what did the Rollos matter? They had no part in this little wind-swept world: they were where they belonged, in some on the C. or D. deck, for death.
"To make a fortune, I hope," he said.
Ann was pleased at this of her diagnosis. She had this from the at Paddington Station.
"How pleased your father will be if you do!"
The of Jimmy's him to pause for a moment to out his fathers, but an instant's told him that she must be to Bayliss the butler.
"Yes."
"He's a dear old man," said Ann. "I he's very proud of you?"
"I so."
"You must do well in America, so as not to him. What are you of doing?"
Jimmy for a moment.
"Newspaper work, I think."
"Oh? Why, have you had any experience?"
"A little."
Ann to a little aloof, as if her had been damped.
"Oh, well, I it's a good profession. I'm not very of it myself. I've only met one newspaper man in my life, and I him very much, so I that has me."
"Who was that?"
"You wouldn't have met him. He was on an American paper. A man named Crocker."
A of wind them a step, talk impossible. It a when Jimmy not have spoken. The of the that Ann had met him him dumb. This thing was him. It him.
Her next a solution. They were under of one of the now and she make herself heard.
"It was five years ago, and I only met him for a very while, but the has lasted."
Jimmy to understand. Five years ago! It was not so strange, then, that they should not each other now. He up his memory. Nothing came to the surface. Not a of of that early meeting him. And yet something of must have then, for her to it. Surely his not have been so as to have such a on her!
"I wish you do something than newspaper work," said Ann. "I always think the part about America is that it is such a land of adventure. There are such millions of chances. It's a place where anything may happen. Haven't you an soul, Mr. Bayliss?"
No man submits to a charge, a charge, of being in the for adventure.
"Of I have," said Jimmy indignantly. "I'm game to anything that comes along."
"I'm of that."
Her of this man deepened. She loved and her of any of the opposite on his for it. She moved in a set, when at home, which was more than adventurous, and had the enervating.
"Adventure," said Jimmy, "is everything."
He paused. "Or a good deal," he weakly.
"Why it like that? It so tame. Adventure is the biggest thing in life."
It to Jimmy that he had an for a of a that had been waiting for since he had met her. Often and often in the of the night, pipes and of her, he had up just such a as this—they two walking the alone, and she him an opening for some low-voiced, speech, at which she would start, look at him quickly, and then ask him if the had any particular application. And after that—oh, well, all of might happen. And now the moment had come. It was true that he had always pictured the as taking place by moonlight and at present there was a half-gale blowing, out of an sky; also on the present occasion anything in the nature of a low-voiced speech was out of the question to the of the elements. Still, taking these into consideration, the was too good to miss. Such an opening might again. He waited till the ship had herself after an into an roller, then, to her side, spoke.
"Love is the biggest thing in life!" he roared.
"What is?" Ann.
"Love!" Jimmy.
He a moment later that he had this of faith, for their next steps took them into a of calm, where some of the vessel's out and a of where it was possible to the ordinary of the voice. He here, and Ann did the same, though unwillingly. She was of a of and of a of her mood of her companion. She views, which she to be unalterable, on the under discussion.
"Love!" she said. It was too dark to see her face, but her voice scornful. "I shouldn't have that you would have been so as that. You different."
"Eh?" said Jimmy blankly.
"I all this talk about Love, as if it were something that was else in life put together. Every book you read and every song that you see in the shop-windows is all about Love. It's as if the whole world were in a to themselves that there's a something just the which they can if they try hard enough. And they themselves into of nothing else and miss all the of life."
"That's Shaw, isn't it?" said Jimmy.
"What is Shaw?"
"What you were saying. It's out of one of Bernard Shaw's things, isn't it?"
"It is not." A note of had into Ann's voice. "It is perfectly original."
"I'm I've it somewhere."
"If you have, that means that you must have with some person."
Jimmy was puzzled.
"But why the grouch?" he asked.
"I don't you."
"I mean, why do you that way about it?"
Ann was now that she did not like this man nearly as well as she had supposed. It is trying for a strong-minded, clear-thinking girl to have her as a grouch.
"Because I've had the to think about it for myself, and not let myself be by popular superstition. The whole world has in making itself that there is something called love which is the most in life. The and have them on to it. It's a swindle."
A of over Jimmy. He it all now. Naturally a girl who had all her life with the Rollos, Clarences, Dwights, and Twombleys would come to of the possibility of in love with any one.
"You haven't met the right man," he said. She had, of course, but only recently: and, anyway, he point that out later.
"There is no such thing as the right man," said Ann resolutely, "if you are that there is a type of man in who is of what is called love. I in marriage. . . ."
"Good work!" said Jimmy, well satisfied.
" . . . But not as the result of a of delirium. I in it as a partnership two friends who know each other well and trust each other. The right way of looking at marriage is to realise, of all, that there are no thrills, no romances, and then to out some one who is and and and full of life and to do to make you happy."
"Ah!" said Jimmy, his tie, "Well, that's something."
"How do you mean—that's something? Are you at my views?"
"I don't they are your views. You've been reading one of these stern, who things."
Ann stamped. The was inaudible, but Jimmy noticed the movement.
"Cold?" he said. "Let's walk on."
Ann's of itself. It was not often that it for so long. She laughed.
"I know what you are thinking," she said. "You that I am posing, that those aren't my opinions."
"They can't be. But I don't think you are posing. It's on for dinner-time, and you've got that wan, that makes you look upon the world and it a fraud. The will be in a minutes, and an hour after that you will be again."
"I'm myself now. I you can't that a girl can such views."
Jimmy took her arm.
"Let me help you," he said. "There's a in the deck. Watch your step. Now, to me. I'm you've up this subject—I the of your being the girl in the world—"
"I said that."
"Your you. But it's a fact, nevertheless. I'm glad, I say, I have been a along those lines myself, and I have been to discuss the point with you. You have the most I have seen!"
"Do you like red hair?"
"Red-gold."
"It is of you to put it like that. When I was a child all a of the other children called me Carrots."
"They have come to a end by this time. If were sent to to the children who Elijah, your little friends were in line for a of tigers. But there were some of a fibre? There were a who didn't call you Carrots?"
"One or two. They called me Brick-Top."
"They have been since. Your are perfectly wonderful!"
Ann her arm. An of men told her that the of was now to be changed.
"You will like America," she said.
"We are not America."
"I am. It is a country for a man who wants to succeed. If I were you, I should go out West."
"Do you live out West?"
"No."
"Then why my going there? Where do you live?"
"I live in New York."
"I shall in New York, then."
Ann was wary, but amused. Proposals of marriage—and Jimmy to be moving one—were no in her life. In the of at Bar Harbor, Tuxedo, Palm Beach, and in New York itself, she had much of her time and the of a series of who had their at her feet.
"New York is open for in about this time, I believe."
Jimmy was silent. He had done his best to a to and had by means of a light to keep himself cheerful, but the girl's total to him was too much for his spirits. One of the men who had had to up the he had at Ann's and it away for repairs had once to an friend, after the had to some passed, that the of a man who love to Ann might be to the which chocolate might be to on with ice-cream. Jimmy, had the been presented to him, would have its perfect accuracy. The wind from the sea, until now and bracing, had cold. The song of the wind in the rigging, melodious, had into a howling.
"I used to be as as any one a years ago," said Ann, returning to the subject. "Just after I left college, I was maudlin. I of and Junes and loves and all the time. Then something which me see what a little I was. It wasn't at the time, but it had a very effect. I have been different since. It was a man, of course, who did it. His method was simple. He just fun of me, and Nature did the rest."
Jimmy in the darkness. Murderous the unknown his mind.
"I wish I meet him!" he growled.
"You aren't likely to," said Ann. "He in England. His name is Crocker. Jimmy Crocker. I spoke about him just now."
Through the of the wind cut the notes of a bugle. Ann to the entrance.
"Dinner!" she said brightly. "How one on ship!" She stopped. "Aren't you down, Mr. Bayliss?"
"Not just yet," said Jimmy thickly.
