She began to watch him with increased interest. She made romances about him, with herself as heroine. She played scenes in which she outwitted the haughty beauty, and fled with the hero. She began to pity Jerry. He was the unwilling victim of Althea and Mrs. Brendon. How could she, Isabelle Bryce, rescue him from their clutches?
In the process of her dreaming she wrecked the yacht, Jerry saved her, and as soon as they reached shore they were married. In one version, Althea, seeing that he loved Isabelle, threw herself overboard and perished. There were many stories, but they always had one ending—Isabelle won and wed the handsome young man.
One windy morning when the other “stuffies” (as she called them to herself) were playing bridge inside, Isabelle squatted on deck, her chin on her knees, watching the big breakers, listening to the scream of the petrels, and as usual building air castles about herself and Jerry, when lo! her hero came striding down the deck and all at once he stopped before her.
“Hello! Aren’t you afraid you’ll blow overboard?” he inquired.
“No, I’m not. You’ve waked up, have you?”
“Have I been asleep?”
“You haven’t seen me before,” she retorted.
“Well, I see you now. Do you know what you look like?” He smiled down at her.
“Yes. I look like a ripe olive.”
“No, you look like a cricket. Are you always so silent? Don’t you ever chirp?”