In her grief at the departure of the _Martha_ it was, to her, anybody's hand--at the best, a friend's hand.
He withdrew his hand and walked perturbedly away.
"Why hasn't he got that big fisherman's staysail on her ?" she demanded irritably.

"It would make the old girl just walk along in this breeze.

I know the sort old Kinross is.

He's the skipper that lies three days under double-reefed topsails waiting for a gale that doesn't come.

Safe?
Oh, yes, he's safe--dangerously safe." Sheldon retraced his steps.
"Never mind," he said.