Dear　old　Mrs。　Dunster　was　dispensing　tea；　looking　from　time　to　time
  with　interest　towards　Miss　Moorsom。　　The　aged　statesman　having
  eaten　a　raw　tomato　and　drunk　a　glass　of　milk　（a　habit　of　his　early
  farming　days；　long　before　politics；　when；　pioneer　of　wheat…growing；
  he　demonstrated　the　possibility　of　raising　crops　on　ground　looking
  barren　enough　to　discourage　a　magician）；　smoothed　his　white　beard；
  and　struck　lightly　Renouard's　knee　with　his　big　wrinkled　hand。
  〃You　had　better　come　back　to…night　and　dine　with　us　quietly。〃
  He　liked　this　young　man；　a　pioneer；　too；　in　more　than　one
  direction。　　Mrs。　Dunster　added：　　〃Do。　　It　will　be　very　quiet。　　I
  don't　even　know　if　Willie　will　be　home　for　dinner。〃　　Renouard
  murmured　his　thanks；　and　left　the　terrace　to　go　on　board　the
  schooner。　　While　lingering　in　the　drawing…room　doorway　he　heard　the
  resonant　voice　of　old　Dunster　uttering　oracularly　…
  〃。　。　。　the　leading　man　here　some　day。　。　。　。　Like　me。〃
  Renouard　let　the　thin　summer　portiere　of　the　doorway　fall　behind
  him。　　The　voice　of　Professor　Moorsom　said　…
  〃I　am　told　that　he　has　made　an　enemy　of　almost　every　man　who　had　to
  work　with　him。〃
  〃That's　nothing。　　He　did　his　work。　。　。　。　Like　me。〃
  〃He　never　counted　the　cost　they　say。　　Not　even　of　lives。〃
  Renouard　understood　that　they　were　talking　of　him。　　Before　he　could
  move　away；　Mrs。　Dunster　struck　in　placidly　…
  〃Don't　let　yourself　be　shocked　by　the　tales　you　may　hear　of　him；　my
  dear。　　Most　of　it　is　envy。〃
  Then　he　heard　Miss　Moorsom's　voice　replying　to　the　old　lady　…
  〃Oh！　　I　am　not　easily　deceived。　　I　think　I　may　say　I　have　an
  instinct　for　truth。〃
  He　hastened　away　from　that　house　with　his　heart　full　of　dread。
  CHAPTER　VI
  On　board　the　schooner；　lying　on　the　settee　on　his　back　with　the
  knuckles　of　his　hands　pressed　over　his　eyes；　he　made　up　his　mind
  that　he　would　not　return　to　that　house　for　dinner　…　that　he　would
  never　go　back　there　any　more。　　He　made　up　his　mind　some　twenty
  times。　　The　knowledge　that　he　had　only　to　go　up　on　the　quarter
  deck；　utter　quietly　the　words：　　〃Man　the　windlass；〃　and　that　the
  schooner　springing　into　life　would　run　a　hundred　miles　out　to　sea
  before　sunrise；　deceived　his　struggling　will。　　Nothing　easier！
  Yet；　in　the　end；　this　young　man；　almost　ill…famed　for　his　ruthless
  daring；　the　inflexible　leader　of　two　tragically　successful
  expeditions；　shrank　from　that　act　of　savage　energy；　and　began；
  instead；　to　hunt　for　excuses。
  No！　　It　was　not　for　him　to　run　away　like　an　incurable　who　cuts　his
  throat。　　He　finished　dressing　and　looked　at　his　own　impassive　face
  in　the　saloon　mirror　scornfully。　　While　being　pulled　on　shore　in
  the　gig；　he　remembered　suddenly　the　wild　beauty　of　a　waterfall　seen
  when　hardly　more　than　a　boy；　years　ago；　in　Menado。　　There　was　a
  legend　of　a　governor…general　of　the　Dutch　East　Indies；　on　official
  tour；　committing　suicide　on　that　spot　by　leaping　into　the　chasm。
  It　was　supposed　that　a　painful　disease　had　made　him　weary　of　life。
  But　was　there　ever　a　visitation　like　his　own；　at　the　same　time
  binding　one　to　life　and　so　cruelly　mortal！
  The　dinner　was　indeed　quiet。　　Willie；　given　half　an　hour's　grace；
  failed　to　turn　up；　and　his　chair　remained　vacant　by　the　side　of
  Miss　Moorsom。　　Renouard　had　the　professor's　sister　on　his　left；
  dressed　in　an　expensive　gown　becoming　her　age。　　That　maiden　lady　in
  her　wonderful　preservation　reminded　Renouard　somehow　of　a　wax
  flower　under　glass。　　There　were　no　traces　of　the　dust　of　life's
  battles　on　her　anywhere。　　She　did　not　like　him　very　much　in　the
  afternoons；　in　his　white　drill　suit　and　planter's　hat；　which　seemed
  to　her　an　unduly　Bohemian　costume　for　calling　in　a　house　where
  there　were　ladies。　　But　in　the　evening；　lithe　and　elegant　in　his
  dress　clothes　and　with　his　pleasant；　slightly　veiled　voice；　he
  always　made　her　conquest　afresh。　　He　might　have　been　anybody
  distinguished　…　the　son　of　a　duke。　　Falling　under　that　charm
  probably　（and　also　because　her　brother　had　given　her　a　hint）；　she
  attempted　to　open　her　heart　to　Renouard；　who　was　watching　with　all
  the　power　of　his　soul　her　niece　across　the　table。　　She　spoke　to　him
  as　frankly　as　though　that　miserable　mortal　envelope；　emptied　of
  everything　but　hopeless　passion；　were　indeed　the　son　of　a　duke。
  Inattentive；　he　heard　her　only　in　snatches；　till　the　final
  confidential　burst：　　〃。　。　。　glad　if　you　would　express　an　opinion。
  Look　at　her；　so　charming；　such　a　great　favourite；　so　generally
  admired！　　It　would　be　too　sad。　　We　all　hoped　she　would　make　a
  brilliant　marriage　with　somebody　very　rich　and　of　high　position；
  have　a　house　in　London　and　in　the　country；　and　entertain　us　all
  splendidly。　　She's　so　eminently　fitted　for　it。　　She　has　such　hosts
  of　distinguished　friends！　　And　then　…　this　instead！　。　。　。　My　heart
  really　aches。〃
  Her　well…bred　if　anxious　whisper　was　covered　by　the　voice　of
  professor　Moorsom　discoursing　subtly　down　the　short　length　of　the
  dinner　table　on　the　Impermanency　of　the　Measurable　to　his　venerable
  disciple。　　It　might　have　been　a　chapter　in　a　new　and　popular　book
  of　Moorsonian　philosophy。　　Patriarchal　and　delighted；　old　Dunster
  leaned　forward　a　little；　his　eyes　shining　youthfully；　two　spots　of
  colour　at　the　roots　of　his　white　beard；　and　Renouard；　glancing　at
  the　senile　excitement；　recalled　the　words　heard　on　those　subtle
  lips；　adopted　their　scorn　for　his　own；　saw　their　truth　before　this
  man　ready　to　be　amused　by　the　side　of　the　grave。　　Yes！
  Intellectual　debauchery　in　the　froth　of　existence！　　Froth　and
  fraud！
  On　the　same　side　of　the　table　Miss　Moorsom　never　once　looked
  towards　her　father；　all　her　grace　as　if　frozen；　her　red　lips
  compressed；　the　faintest　rosiness　under　her　dazzling　complexion；
  her　black　eyes　burning　motionless；　and　the　very　coppery　gleams　of
  light　lying　still　on　the　waves　and　undulation　of　her　hair。
  Renouard　fancied　himself　overturning　the　table；　smashing　crystal
  and　china；　treading　fruit　and　flowers　under　foot；　seizing　her　in
  his　arms；　carrying　her　off　in　a　tumult　of　shrieks　from　all　these
  people；　a　silent　frightened　mortal；　into　some　profound　retreat　as
  in　the　age　of　Cavern　men。　　Suddenly　everybody　got　up；　and　he
  hastened　to　rise　too；　finding　himself　out　of　breath　and　quite
  unsteady　on　his　feet。
  On　the　terrace　the　philosopher；　after　lighting　a　cigar；　slipped　his
  hand　condescendingly　under　his　〃dear　young　friend's〃　arm。　　Renouard
  regarded　him　now　with　the　profoundest　mistrust。　　But　the　great　man
  seemed　really　to　have　a　liking　for　his　young　friend　…　one　of　those
  mysterious　sympathies；　disregarding　the　differences　of　age　and
  position；　which　in　this　case　might　have　been　explained　by　the
  failure　of　philosophy　to　meet　a　very　real　worry　of　a　practical
  kind。
  After　a　turn　or　two　and　some　casual　talk　the　professor　said
  suddenly：　　〃My　late　son　was　in　your　school　…　do　you　know？　　I　can
  imagine　that　had　he　lived　and　you　had　ever　met　you　would　have
  understood　each　other。　　He　too　was　inclined　to　action。〃
  He　sighed；　then；　shaking　off　the　mournful　thought　and　with　a　nod　at
  the　dusky　part　of　the　terrace　where　the　dress　of　his　daughter　made
  a　luminous　stain：　　〃I　really　wish　you　would　drop　in　that　quarter　a
  few　sensible；　discouraging　words。〃
  Renouard　disengaged　himself　from　that　most　perfidious　of　men　under
  the　pretence　of　astonishment；　and　stepping　back　a　pace　…
  〃Surely　you　are　making　fun　of　me；　Professor　Moorsom；〃　he　said　with
  a　low　laugh；　which　was　really　a　sound　of　rage。
  〃My　dear　young　friend！　　It's　no　subject　for　jokes；　to　me。　。　。　You
  don't　seem　to　have　any　notion　of　your　prestige；〃　he　added；　walking
  away　towards　the　chairs。
  〃Humbug！〃　thought　Renouard；　standing　still　and　looking　after　him。
  〃And　yet！　　And　yet！　　What　if　it　were　true？〃
  He　advanced　then　towards　Miss　Moorsom。　　Posed　on　the　seat　on　which
  they　had　first　spoken　to　each　other；　it　was　her　turn　to　watch　him
  coming　on。　　But　many　of　the　windows　were　not　lighted　that　evening。
  It　was　dark　over　there。　　She　appeared　to　him　luminous　in　her　clear
  dress；　a　figure　without　shape；　a　face　without　features；　awaiting
  his　approach；　till　he　got　quite　near　to　her；　sat　down；　and　they　had
  exchanged　a　few　insignificant　words。　　Gradually　she　came　out　like　a
  magic　painting　of　charm；　fascination；　and　desire；　glowing
  mysteriously　on　the　dark　background。　　Something　imperceptible　in
  the　lines　of　her　attitude；　in　the　modulations　of　her　voice；　seemed
  to　soften　that　suggestion　of　calm　unconscious　pride　which　enveloped
  her　always　like　a　mantle。　　He；　sensitive　like　a　bond　slave　to　the
  moods　of