The admiral shook his head dubiously.

“No, no,” Breitmann averred.  “There is no flattery in what I say.  Flattery was not in our agreement.  And,” with a slight lift of the jaw, “I never say what I do not honestly mean.  It will be a good book, and I am proud to have had a hand, however light, in the making.”

The admiral chuckled.  “That is the kind of flattery no man may shut his ears to.  It has been a great pleasure to me; it has kept me out-of-doors, in the open, where I belong.  Come in, Laura, come in.”

The girl stood framed in the low doorway, a charming picture to the old man and a lovely one to the secretary.  She balanced herself with a hand on each side of the jam.

“Father, how can you work when the sun is so beautiful outside?  Good morning, Mr. Breitmann,” cordially.

“Good morning.”

“Work is over, Laura.  Come in.”  The admiral reached forth an arm and caught her, drawing her gently in and finally to his breast.

Breitmann would have given an eye for that right.  The picture set his nerves twitching.

“I am not in the way?”

“Not at all,” answered the secretary.  “I was just leaving.”  And with good foresight he passed out.

“A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” murmured the admiral.

“Fudge!” and she laughed.

“We are having a fine voyage.”

“Splendid!  Why is it that I am always happy?”

“It is because you do not depend upon others for it, my dear.  I am happy, too.  I am as happy as a boy with his first boat.  But never has a ship gone slower than this one of mine.  I am simply crazy to drop anchor in the Gulf of Ajaccio.  I find it on the tip of my tongue, every night at dinner, to tell the others where we are bound.”

“Why not?  Where’s the harm now?”

“I don’t know, but something keeps it back.  Laura,” looking into her eyes, “did we ever cruise with brighter men on board?”

“What is it you wish to know, father?” merrily.  “You dear old sailor, don’t you understand that these men are different?  They are men who accomplish things; they haven’t time to bother about young women.”

“You don’t say!” pinching the ear nearest.

“This is the seventh day out, and not one of them has ceased to be interesting yet.”

“Would they cease to be interesting if they proposed?” quizzing.

These two had no unshared secrets.  They were sure of each other.  He knew that when this child of his divided her affection with another man, that man would be deserving.

“I would rather have them all as they are.  They make fine comrades.”

He sighed thankfully.  “Arthur seems to be out of the race.”

“Rather say I am!” with laughter.  “Why, a child could read Arthur Cathewe’s face when he looks at her.  Isn’t she simply beautiful?”

“Very.  But there are types and types.”