It needed only that; but the golden sands of opportunity were running out--were running out fast.

Slowly and more slowly, silently and more silently, the boat slid in towards the bank on which he stood, and still she hesitated.

The stillness, and the waiting figure, and the watching eyes now but a few feet distant, weighed on her and seemed to paralyze her will.

A foot, another foot! A moment and it would be too late, the last of the sands would have run out.

The bow of the boat rustled softly through the rushes; it kissed the bank.