“It—it—must come,” she faltered. ” “How could you!” She exclaimed. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. I——” The door was thrown open. " And he strode out of the place. ” She shrugged her shoulders. And immeasurable was the calm evolved from this knowledge. He loved the sea, and could give a good account of himself in any weather. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. The decision had been sound. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone.
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