“We shall go, in good season,” she whispered. “But — ” The rest was murmured so faintly, yet so tremendously audible to his superheated brain, that he drew back and stared up at her with an awful expression of mingled unbelief and horror distorting his face.

“Do you know what you say?” he gasped, and shot an apprehensive glance toward Venner and Pearse.

“Surely, my friend,” she crooned. “Thyself alone, of those who came in this ship, may return. If I am desirable, see to it that I can be pleased with thee.” Dolores stood up, bent upon him a dazzling smile, leaned as if to kiss his lips, then with a tinkling little ripple of mirth blew a kiss instead and ran up the companion-stairs to the deck.