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"He would be," said McGuire. "He'll be more broken up than that when——"

He looked toward Williams significantly, and a little amused; there was no response in the short-bearded, hard, bronzed face, and McGuire left his sentence unfinished.

McGuire thought the queer patterns that Fate made as she pushed people about were often ironically amusing; he now grinned aimlessly, merely through seeing how, because of Seibert, they had come to Penwenn, and because of Penwenn Nada had come to them, and by her coming they learned of Seibert's incomprehensible marriage. One more arc was added to this intricate circle when Williams, with a manner of stern kindliness that meant a great deal from him, asked if there was now anything that could be done for her.

At first she smiled a little, and thoughtfully said, "No, no, I think not," as if wanting it to be evident that she had been moved by no impulse but that of loyalty to him, and his friendship with her family; then suddenly, without a thought before the words were out, as if the idea was flying up from a secret place within her, she cried eagerly: "Yes. Oh, let me go home with you! I am so homesick I shall die here, and I never, never can look at Alan Penwenn again! I want to go now—with you! You will take his Flying Gull, won't you? And—please, you must let me go too!"