The Beach of Dreams

t did not take her five minutes. Then she held up the work and reviewed it with lips slightly pursed,

of the place was stifling with the fume of cigarettes, and the girl nearl

putting her book down and taking off her glasses. "No, I won't hav

"I just came to say good-night-and tell

o-S

es

at did

aid

he matter with him-I mean

ow

he pleases and whom he pleased and you say 'no.' Good-looking, without vices, riche

s Clootz and dilletanti of Anarchism had lately possessed one

't believe in all t

l w

ealth and

is no use in talking any more, for I know your disposition. You are hard, mademoiselle, that is your fail

her spect

ht," said

d the door, and ent

h the wildest surprise, for here was everything that a mortal could demand in the way of comfort and not

a writing-table that could be closed up into the wall so cunningly that no trace was left of where it had been, a tiny library of slim volumes uniformly bound in amber leather, a miracle of binding, the work of Grossart of Tours, a map-rack containing

r. The picture seemed to fascinate her as though it were the reflection of some stran

oud to reply, but the momentary anger had passed, giving place to a craving for freedom and fresh air. The atmosphere of the state-r

se, went into the dressing-room and, without assistance, changed her gown for a tweed coat and skirt and her thin evening shoes for a pair of serviceable boots. Then she slipped on her oilskin and sou'wester

pow-wow; the ship lurched forward, and from the blackness of the open hatch above came a voice like the sudden cl

, as she scrambled on to her hands and knees, someone passed her, nearly treading on her, and rushed up th

ment; but the darkness was terrific with voices, voices from forward of the bridge and voice

nightmare effect, heightened by a ruffling and booming from the sky above, a

f light shot o

ays ready to be used for night wor

wind and thrashing and thundering, was dipping her bows in the sea. Men were fighting for the boats, and the stern was so hi

BAT

rror seemed focussed in that calm statement, th

sinking but the Gaston de Paris seemed safe, but for the horrible slant of the decks; she called out to the sailors, now clustered here and there by the boat davits, but her voice blew away on the wind, she saw Prince Selm, he was struggling aft along the slippery sloping deck, clutching at the bulwarks as he came, he seemed like a man engaged in some fantastic game-an unreal figure, now he was on the deck on all

ds the opening when blackness hit her like a blow between the

led slightly deeper, flinging her to her knees, and a

nd seized her cruelly as a vice. It caught her by the shoulder. She fel