"Oh, yes," he assented. And then; "I don't understand. I—but you will take good care of them, won't you, old man? They're all I have; and more, they're all I want. Guard them, Tom, for me as though they were your own."
* * * * *
Waiting to take farewell of those one loves is indeed a sweetness tinged with bitterness. And if one loves very, very much, it is sometimes a bitterness tinged with sweetness. Kathryn, lower lip clenched between white teeth, herself unhappy would have kept that unhappiness as far as possible hers alone. There were those on board that she knew. To them she went; for there was still, since time was short, too much of it. Muriel she took with her.
Schuyler, in his eyes all the virile love that such as he feel for theirs, watched her vanish amid the throngs. Then, sauntering to the rail, leaned against it…. There came into his eyes a look of abstraction, of aberration, of puzzlement. Blake stood watching him— stood for a long time, silent, unmoving…. At length he moved to Schuyler's side.
"Old man," he said, very slowly, very quietly, very earnestly; "old man, what's up?"
Schuyler turned, quickly
"What's up?" he repeated. "What do you mean?"
Blake said, still slowly:
"There's something happened to you."
"Happened," cried Schuyler. "Something happened?" He laughed. "What could have happened?"