He could hear the silvery echoes of her laughter across half a lifetime, could feel the warm hand that clasped his own.

A magic touch swept aside the years and revealed the old, glad days of his boyhood.
Merefleet pushed away his plate and sat with fixed eyes, fascinated by the rosy vision.

They were side by side in a fishing-smack, he and the playmate of his childhood.

There was an old fisherman in charge with grizzled hair, whose name, he recollected without effort, was Quiller.
He was showing the little maid how to tie a knot that was warranted never to come undone.
Merefleet watched the ardent, flushed face with a deep reverence.

He had not seen it so vividly since the day he had kissed it for the last time and gone forth into the seething sea of life to fight the whirlpools.
Well, he had emerged triumphant so far as earthly success went.