Her father was slowly improving, but with this improvement came the natural desire for seclusion; so he came on deck only at night.
The night on which the vessel bore into the moist, warm air of the Gulf Stream was full of moonshine, of smooth, phosphorescent billows.
Herbeck had gone below.

The girl leaned over the rail, alone and lonely.
And Carmichael, seeing her, could no longer still the desire in his heart.

He came up to her.
"See!" she exclaimed, pointing to the little eddies of foam speeding along the hull.

"Do you know what they remind me of?
Mermaids' fingers, grasping and clutching at the boat as if to drag it down below." How beautiful she was with the frost of moonlight on her hair! "You must not talk like that," he admonished.
"I am very unhappy." "And when you say that you make me so, too." "Why ?" She had spoken the word at last.
"Do you remember the night you dropped your fan ?" leaning so closely toward her that his arm pressed against hers.
"I remember." "You put that word then.

In honor I dared not answer.