him! Money--and a man without conscience. A man who would starve
thousands or millions to achieve his ends. A man who, in every sense of
the word, is a murderer--"

The sharpness of her cry stopped him. If possible, her face had gone
whiter, and he saw her hands clutched suddenly at her breast. And the
look in her eyes brought the old, cynical twist back to his lips.

"There, I've hurt your puritanism again, Miss Standish," he said, bowing
a little. "In order to appeal to your finer sensibilities I suppose I
must apologize for swearing and calling another man a murderer. Well, I
do. And now--if you care to stroll about the ship--"

From a respectful distance the three young engineers watched Alan and
Mary Standish as they walked forward.

"A corking pretty girl," said one of them, drawing a deep breath. "I
never saw such hair and eyes--"

"I'm at the same table with them," interrupted another. "I'm second on
her left, and she hasn't spoken three words to me. And that fellow she
is with is like an icicle out of Labrador."

And Mary Standish was saying: "Do you know, Mr. Holt, I envy those young
engineers. I wish I were a man."

"I wish you were," agreed Alan amiably.

Whereupon Mary Standish's pretty mouth lost its softness for an instant.
But Alan did not observe this. He was enjoying his cigar and the