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"A sail?" said McClintock. ’ She shook her head sadly. Melusine giggled, and tucked her hand into his. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. Presently he felt motion. One would think I had agreed to her going.

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