The only thing now left to desire was to slip clear of the shadow of the black reaches of Yaque, shouldering the blue.
Meanwhile, Antoinette and Amory sat in the comparative seclusion of the bow with their backs to the forward deck, and it was definitely manifest to every one how it would be with them, but every one was simply glad and dismissed the matter with that.

Mr.Frothingham, in his steamer chair, looked like a soft collapsible tube of something; Bennietod, at ease upon the uncovered boards of the deck, was circumspectly having cheese sandwiches and wastefully shooting the ship's rockets into the red sunset, in general celebration; and Rollo, having taken occasion respectfully to submit to whomsoever it concerned that fact is ever stranger than fiction, had gone below.
Mr.Otho Holland and Little Cawthorne--but their smiles were like different names for the same thing--were toasting each other in something light and dry and having a bouquet which Mr.Holland, who ought to know, compared favourably with certain vintages of 1000 B.C.In a hammock near them reclined Mrs.Medora Hastings, holding two kinds of smelling salts which invariably revived her simply by inducing the mental effort of deciding which was the better.

Her hair, which was exceedingly pretty, now rippled becomingly about her flushed face and was guiltless of side-combs--she had lost them both down a chasm in that headlong flight from the cliff's summit, and they irrecoverably reposed in the bed of some brook of the Miocene period.

And Mrs.Hastings, her hand in that of her brother, lay in utter silence, smiling up at him in serene content.
For King Otho of Yaque was turning his back upon his island domain for ever.

In that hurried flight across the Eurychorus among his distracted subjects, his resolution had been taken.