Sailors seemed to fall all over each other in getting ready for departure.

The party of guests was not large. There was a professor from the College. A local politico, the owner of the proposed campsite. A lawyer. The Turkish owner of the yacht glowed visibly as last-minute baskets of food came aboard. He was not paying for them.

Coghlan and Laurie sat at the very stern of the yacht when at last it pulled out and went on up the Golden Horn. There was little privacy, because of the swarming number of the crew, and Coghlan did not try for greater privacy. He looked at the panorama of the city which had been the center of civilization for a thousand years--and now was a rabbit-warren of narrow streets and questionable occupations. Laurie, beside him, watched the unfolding view of minarets and domes and the great white palace which had been the Seraglio, and the soaring pile of Hagia Sophia, and all the beauty of this place, notorious for its beauty for almost two thousand years. There was bright sunshine to add to it, and the flickering of sun-reflections on the water. These things seemed to cast a glamor over everything. But Laurie looked away from it at Coghlan."Tommy," she said, "will you tell me what was in that mysterious message that you wouldn't tell last night? You said it was about me."

"It was nothing important," said Coghlan. "Shall we go up to the pilot-house and see how the yacht's steered?"

She faced him directly, and smiled.

"Does it occur to you that I've known you a long time, Tommy, and I've practically studied you, and I can almost read your mind--I hope?"

He moved restlessly.

"When you were ten years old," she said, "you told me very generously that you would marry me when you grew up. But you insisted ferociously that I shouldn't tell anybody!"

He muttered something indistinct about kids.

"And you took me to your Senior Prom," she reminded him, "even if I had to make my father leave Bogota two months early so I'd be around when it was time for you to pass out the invitation. And you were the first boy who ever kissed me," she added amiably, "and until--well--lately you used to write me very nice letters. You've paid attention to me all our lives, Tommy!"

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