"Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. There came to Spurlock the recurrence of the grim resolution of what he had set out to do: that comradeship was all he might ever give this exquisite creature; for she was exquisite, and in a way she dominated this picture of sea and sky and sail. She could not hide her face. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. ’ ‘Don’t count on it. CHAPTER I. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand.
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