Jeanne awoke the next morning to find herself between lavender scented sheets in a small iron bedstead, with a soft sea-wind blowing in through the half-open window.

Her maid was ready to wait upon her, and her bath was of salt water fresh from the sea.

She descended to find Andrew at work in the garden, the sun already high in the heavens, and the sea as blue and placid as though the storm of the night before were a thing long past and forgotten.
"I am never going away," she declared, as they sat at breakfast.

"I take your rooms, Monsieur Andrew.

I will import as many chaperons as you please, but I will not leave this island." "I am afraid," he answered smiling, "that there are other people who would have something to say about that.