I must rest--and--I dare not meet you." "Dare not ?" "I am afraid of myself.

Please leave me." He caught the sob in her voice, and it unmanned him; he stalked off, raging.

He remembered how the fiend, in Gounod's incomparable opera, whispered in the lover's ear: "Thou fool, wait for night and the moon!" and he was wroth with himself for the memory.

While off duty he kept strict watch and ward over the gangway in which Iris's cabin was situated.

It was useless; she remained hidden.
The _Unser Fritz_ was now heading southwest, and "reeling off her ten knots an hour like clockwork," as Norrie put it.