He took a worn photograph from his pocket and looked at it long and searchingly, and when he put it away he sighed.

It made no difference of course, but he would rather have found her like that, the child with sweet, trustful eyes and a laughing mouth.
Was there no life at all, then, outside this little vortex into which at her bidding he had plunged?
Would she never have been content with anything else?
He looked across the placid, blue sea to where the sun gleamed like silver on a white sail, and sighed again.

He must make himself what she would have him.

There was no life for him without her.
The captain came up for his morning chat and some of the passengers, who eyed him with obvious respect, lingered for a moment about his chair on their promenade.

Trent lit a cigar and presently began to stroll up and down himself.