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Updated: July 15, 2025
Realizing that this was no time for hesitation, and that the girl's life might depend on my reading her name, I plucked it forth. It was Edith Croyden. As vigorously as I could I now set to work to rub her hands. I next removed her boots, which were now rendered useless, as I argued, by the sea-water, and began to rub her feet.
I am a married man. The woman seated there is my wife. And I love you." Edith put out her arms with a low cry and clasped me about the neck. "Harold," she murmured, "my Harold." "Have I done wrong?" I whispered. "Only what I have done too," she answered. "I, too, am married, Harold, and the man sitting there below, John Croyden, is my husband."
"Yes," she said, "tell me about it." Meantime I could see that Edith had gone over to John Croyden. "John," she said, "you shouldn't sit on the wet sand like that. You will get a chill. Let me help you to get up." I looked at Clara and at Croyden. "How has this happened?" I asked. "Tell me." "We were on the same ship," Croyden said. "There came a great storm. Even the Captain had never seen "
Ostrog was looking steadfastly away from him to the south. He realized with a gleam of wrath how bungling his flight must be. Below he saw the Croyden hills. He jerked upward and once more he gained on his enemy. He glanced over his shoulder and his attention was arrested by a strange thing.
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