firm as if on solid ground, between passengers and rowers as the boat sped shoreward. As the two craft separated the schooner stood out in veritable beauty, an exquisite thing of gold and ivory, pearl and rose. Venner’s eyes lighted with pride at sight of her. Even a long, eventless cruise had not killed the artist in him. He touched Milo softly on the thigh and said with a smile:

“Has your queen anything like that, my friend?”

Milo cast a disdainful glance at the yacht, abruptly turned away again, and replied shortly: “That is nothing.”

“Nothing!” said Venner. “Then where have you seen daintier work of men’s hands and brains?”

“Thou shall see. Thy ship is a petty thing.”