"He was still pursuing, I believe."
"Why don't you make him a real villain, a man who never kills any one, but who makes every one unhappy?"
"But that's a problem-villain; what we must have is a romance-villain, the kind every one is sorry for. Look at that old Portuguese man-o'-war," pointing to the crest of a near-by wave. "Funny little codger!"
"When do you expect to begin the story on paper?"
"When I have all the material," not afraid of her eyes at that moment.
She propped her elbows on the rail. It was a seductive pose, and came very near being the young man's undoing.
"Does it seem impossible to you," she said, "that in these prosaic times we are treasure hunting? Must we not wake up and find it a dream?"
"Most dreams are perishable, but in this case we have the dream tightly bound. But what are we going to do with all this money when we find it?"
"Divide it or start a soldiers' home. I've never thought of it as money."
"Heaven knows, I have!"