Remember, at any hour I shall be here.

I promise it." "Good night," she murmured.

In a few minutes her soft regular breathing told me that she was asleep.
I went forward and seated myself in a tar-bucket, with my head against the mast, to get what sleep I could.
But for some time--why, I do not know--sleep would not come.
The image of Edith Croyden filled my mind.

In vain I told myself that she was a stranger to me: that--beyond her longitude--I knew nothing of her.

In some strange way this girl had seized hold of me and dominated my senses.
The night was very calm and still, with great stars in a velvet sky.