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252 life has swung into a new cycle whose grief lies onward and whose joy behind, he must—alone, with the thing in his pocket or the words in his head—work at a desk, or navigate a ship, or chat with strangers, or walk floors, or sit in theatres, or paint steps. Slowly, therefore, but with fixed heart and equal mind, the captain had accepted his message in its finality.

"I don't see exac'ly how I 'll do without her," he reflected. His tall bulk filling the little window, he looked out once more at the distant topmast, and summarized the remainder of his old age. "It 'll be like—like haulin' in on a slack rope—with nothin' at the end. But I must 'a' ben kind o' selfish, frettin' Her about it so long."

Treading lightly, he entered the sickroom, to make his offering.

"Well, Carrie," he announced jovially, "guess this 'll interest ye."

"I'm not deef," replied his consort, who sat propped among pillows, her sallow, hostile face appearing, under a white nightcap, like the sinister freak of some ill-omened mas-