She looked away from him toward the shore of the mainland where the
towers of "Wake-Robin" made a gray smudge against the trees.

"Oh, yes, I can," she said shortly.

Markham eyed her curiously for a moment, then turned on his heel and
went abruptly into the cabin whence he presently emerged carrying a
tray which bore a cup of steaming coffee, some toast and an egg.
Before she was well aware of it, he had placed the tray on her lap, and
stood before her, his six feet of stature dominating.

"Now eat!" he said, quietly.

She looked down at the food and then uncertainly up to his face. Never
in her life, that she could remember, had she been addressed to
peremptorily. His lips smiled, but there was no denying the note of
command in his voice and in his attitude. Curiously enough she found
herself fingering at the coffee cup.

"There's a lump of sugar in it," he added, "and another on the saucer.
I have no cream."

"I--I don't care for cream, thanks."

There seemed nothing to do, since he still stood there looking at her,
but to eat, and she did so without further remarks. He watched her
for a moment and then went in at the door, returning in a moment with
another cup of coffee and another dish. Without a word he sat on the
step of the porch and followed her example, munching his toast and
sipping his coffee with grave deliberateness, his eyes following hers