’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. Then for a time she forgot the Fadden affair altogether. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. —"Oh! about that boy, Thames Darrell. She thought of how much she wanted to eat the foods she had once feasted on that now smelled as innocuous as spring flowers. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn.
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