I lay still till he had given up the search and gone towards the house, and then, like the silly lamb in the spelling-book story, I came forth in the moonlight, and if I did not skip and frisk about with delight, I at least enjoyed myself after the only dismal fashion I could command.
Captain Tyrrell was to me, in these days, a veritable old man of the sea, I could not get rid of him, and sometimes I thought in my most despairing moods that it was going to be my lot to carry him on my shoulders for the remainder of my life.
I was walking slowly, musing ruefully, when I saw a figure advancing to meet me on the path.

I saw at a glance that it was John Hollingford.

The time had been when I would have flown gladly to meet him, linked my arm in his, and seized the opportunity for one of our old talks about pleasant fancies.

But this was not the friend I had known, nor was I any longer the simple girl who could open her heart to trust, and delight in shining dreams.

The pleasant fancies had been proved cheats, the stars had fallen.