office betimes the next morning. There were reasons why a certain article descriptive of a great whaleback steamer taking on grain for

ge and sporting editors, and settled himself at his desk, he suddenly remembered th

y is played out. Of course, I don't love her-any more than she loves me. I'll see less and less of her now. It's inevitable, and after a w

the article in two ways. He either could fake his copy from a clipping on the subject which the exchange editor had laid on his desk, or he could go down in person to the wharf, in

g, and he might get hold of a photograph of the whaleback. All at once the "idea" of the article struck him, the certain underly

he exclaime

d to him that he had forgotten to call at his club that morning for his mail, as was his custom, on the way to the office. He looked at his watch. It wa

the institutions of the city, and, in fact, famous throughout the United States. He was one of the younger members, but

e to whom Condy had sent a collection of his short stories about a month before. He took the letter into the "round window" of the club, overlooking the street,

, Bohemian Club, S

at we find in several of them indications of a quite unusual order of merit. The best-selling book just now is the short novel-say thirty thousand words-of action and adventu

espect

NTENNI

Yo

nto his pocket and collap

ng gloomily down into the street. "My level is just the hack-work of

possibilities in the subject whatever. His "idea" of a few minutes previous seemed ridiculous and o

ess so well: black skirt, black Russian blouse, tiny black bonnet and black veil, white kids with black stitching. Simplicity itself. Yet the style of her, as Condy Rivers told himself, flew up and hit you in the face; and her figure-was there any

on the curbstone without noticing her; "you had best go to

SHE," he burlesqued; "and after all these y

lo,

are you

or half an hour to have the

ar, will you expect me

the idea of ever expecting you to have

, and boxes of candy for a certain girl I know. But"-a

t are you 'on' th

ey started to walk t

k and see the vessel, if you can

e Centennial people have

im for this; then

k! You ought to, Condy. Oh, I te

ason why you shouldn't!" he exclaimed. And within fifteen minutes th

themselves along the docks, straining leisurely at their mammoth chains, their flanks opened, their cargoes, as it were their entrails, spewed out in a wild disarray of crate and bale and box. Sailors and stevedores swarmed them like vermin. Trucks rolled along the wharves like peals of ordnance, the horse-hoofs beating the boards like heavy dr

brown eyes snapping, her cheeks f

e: the 'Mary Baker,' Hull; and the 'Anandale,' Liverpool; and the 'Two Sisters,' Calcutta, and see that one they're calkin

re to feed strangely clad skeletons on the southern slopes of the Himalaya foot-hills. Travis and Condy edged their way among piles of wheat-bags,

, with profound solemnity, "and I

ell back upo

spered Condy to Travis as

ey found in the chart-room, engaged, singularly en

ction. The mate-an old man with a patriarchal beard-softened at once, asked them into his own cabin a

arm-clock screwed to the wall, and the array of photographs thrust into the mirror between frame and glass. One, an old daguerreotype, particularly caught her fancy. It was the portrait of a very beautiful girl, wearing the old-fashioned

ered Travis, wit

mate, his eyes wide and though

ur age, miss, when I saw h

ndescript whaleback they had come suddenly to the edge of a romance-a romance that had

e d

ieve she's alive yet, and waiting for me." He hesitated awkwardly. "I dunno," he said pulling his bear

f on the plush settle opposite the door, his elbows on his knees,

ome up and had been recovered, but the seventh hadn't. It was the body of the daughter of the governor of the island, a beautiful young girl of nineteen, whom everybody loved. I was sent for to go down and bring the body up. Well, I went down. The packet lay in a hundred feet of water, and that's a wonder deep dive. I had to go down twice. The firs

paused

d the air touches them. We say that the drowned who don't come up still have some sort of life of their own way down there in all that green water ... some kind of life ... surely ... surely. When I went down the second time, I came across the door of what I thought at first was the linen-closet. But it turned out to be a little stateroom. I opened it. There was the girl. She was sitting on the sofa op

with that crowd of men-up where the air would get at her, and where they would put her in the ground along o' the worms? If I left her there she'd always be sweet and pretty-always be nineteen; and I remembered what old divers said about drowned people living just so long as they stayed belo

er; but she's always stayed just as she was the first day I saw her, when she came toward me smiling and holding out her arms. She's always stayed young and fresh and pretty. I never saw her but that once. Only afterward I g

laimed Travis, in a low voi

as gold!" murmured C

knee, "that's the story. Now you know all about th

Funchal label and filled three tiny glasses. T

HER," said T

ered the mate, and the

own the gangplank they met the c

d McPherson," he explained. "Did

e!" exclai

I knew it. The old boy's wits are turned on that subject. He WILL have it that the body hasn't decomp