Aunt Caroline sighed.
"At any rate, I have done my duty, William. When do we sail?"
"Soon."
Bill went forward to give an order to the sailing-master.
[CHAPTER XVII]
The Way of a Maid
Larchmont Harbor!
It was fair even to the eyes of Bill Marshall, as he stood under the after awning of the Sunshine, staring out over the shining water, as yet untouched by so much as a breath of breeze. He was in no pleasant mood this morning, but he could not deny the serene, luxurious charm of the harbor. At another time it might have awakened the spirit of the muse within him; Pete always insisted that far under the surface Bill was a poet. But now its influence was not quite so potent as that; it merely laid a restraining spell upon him, soothing him, mollifying him, yet not lifting him to the heights.