may be some danger there but there's nothing ugly to fear."
She gave me a startled glance quite unusual with her, more than wonderful to me; and suddenly as though she had seen me for the first time she exclaimed in a tone of compunction:
"Oh! And there is this one, too! Why! Oh, why should he run his head into danger for those things that will all crumble into dust before long?"
I said: "You won't crumble into dust."
And Mills chimed in:
"That young enthusiast will always have his sea."
We were all standing up now. She kept her eyes on me, and repeated with a sort of whimsical enviousness:
"The sea! The violet sea—and he is longing to rejoin it! … At night! Under the stars! … A lovers' meeting," she went on, thrilling me from head to foot with those two words, accompanied by a wistful smile pointed by a suspicion of mockery. She turned away. "And you, Monsieur Mills?" she asked.
"I am going back to my books," he declared with a very serious face. "My adventure is over."
"Each one to his love," she bantered us gently. "Didn't I love books, too, at one time! They seemed to contain all wisdom and hold a magic power, too. Tell me, Monsieur Mills, have you found amongst them in some black-letter volume the power of foretelling a poor mortal's destiny, the power to look into the future? Anybody's future" … Mills shook his head … "What, not even mine?" she coaxed as if she really believed in a magic power to be found in books.
Mills shook his head again. "No, I have not the
