lithe figure showed charmingly its firm yet easy line. The needle, in
her dexterous brown fingers, flew through its work. The locker was a
broad one; Launce was able to seat himself partially behind her. In this
position who could have resisted the temptation to lift up her great
knot of broadly-plaited black hair, and to let the warm, dusky nape
of her neck disclose itself to view? Who, looking at it, could fail to
revile the senseless modern fashion of dressing the hair, which hides
the double beauty of form and color that nestles at the back of a
woman's neck? From time to time, as the interview proceeded, Launce's
lips emphasized the more important words occurring in his share of the
conversation on the soft, fragrant skin which the lifted hair let him
see at intervals. In Launce's place, sir, you would have done it too.

"Now, Natalie, what is the news?"

"He has spoken to papa, Launce."

"Richard Turlington?"

"Yes."

"D--n him!"

Natalie started. A curse addressed to the back of your neck, instantly
followed by a blessing in the shape of a kiss, is a little trying when
you are not prepared for it.

"Don't do that again, Launce! It was while you were on deck smoking,
and when I was supposed to be fast asleep. I opened the ventilator in
my cabin door, dear, and I heard every word they said. He waited till my