“The Brünnhilde!” exclaimed Montague. “You don't say so!”
“Yes, and I hate to miss it,” said she.
“How long shall you be gone?” he asked.
“I shall be back sometime this evening,” she answered. “We are going up the Sound. The yacht has just been put into commission, you know.”
“Where is she lying?”
“Off the Battery. I am to be on board in an hour, and I was just about to start. Couldn't you possibly meet me there?”
“Yes,” said Montague. “I will come over. I suppose they will wait a few minutes.”
“I am half dying to know about the offer,” said Lucy.
Montague had a couple of callers, which delayed him somewhat; finally he jumped into a cab and drove to the Battery.
Here, in the neighbourhood of Castle Garden, was a sheltered place popularly known as the “Millionaires' Basin,” being the favourite anchorage of the private yachts of the “Wall Street flotilla.” At this time of the year most of the great men had already moved out to their country places, and those of them who lived on the Hudson or up the Sound would come to their offices in vessels of every size, from racing motor-boats to huge private steamships. They would have their breakfasts served on board, and would have their secretaries and their mail.