"Do you remember your first night on board this boat, when we discussed the sea and the poets who have written of her?"
"It was the night of the first day I ever saw you," I answered. "Is it likely I should have forgotten it?"
"Some men forget very easily," she answered, looking down at the sparkling water. "But I'll do you the justice to say I don't think you are one of that kind."
"And you are right; I am sure I am not. I think if I were lying dead in my grave, my brain would still remember you."
She looked roguishly up into my face, and said:
"That is rather a big assertion for a medical man to make, is it not?"
"Bother medicine," I cried impatiently. "It reminds me of the outer world. And by the same token, Alie, I want to ask you something unpleasant again."
"And that is?"
"When I am to say good-bye to you?"
"To-morrow," she answered. "To-morrow night, all being well, we shall pick up a trading schooner off a certain island. Her owner is under an obligation to me, and will take you on board and convey you to Thursday Island. Thence you can travel home via Australia and the Canal or Honolulu and America, as you please."
I had expected that the parting was not far distant, bat I did not think it would prove as close as this. I told Alie as much.
"It is the only opportunity that may serve," she answered. "And I must not keep you with me too long for your own sake."
