He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. And for me there is only one treasure-house. "A sail?" said McClintock.
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