"I could have waited ever so long, believing that you would come again, and that I should never lose you.

But men are different; I see, yes, I see that, Philip." "We are more impetuous.

We know, we sailors, that now-to-day-is our time; that to-morrow may be Fate's, and Fate is a fickle jade: she beckons you up with one hand to-day, and waves you down with the other to-morrow." "Philip," she said, scarcely above a whisper, and putting her hands on his arms, as her head sank towards him, "I must be honest with you--I must be that or nothing at all.

I do not feel as you do about it; I can't.

I would much--much--rather everybody knew.