"Yes，Ido.There’sacollegeinNewYorkjustforwomen.AuntKihmsentmetheprospectus，andit’soneofthebestinthecountry.Idon’tdreamofpracticing，youknow;atleast，Idon’tthinkaboutthatnow.Butonemusthavesomeoccupation;andisn’tstudyingmedicine，Condy，betterthanpiano—playing，orFrenchcourses，orliteraryclassesandBrowningcircles？Oh，I’venopatiencewiththatkindofgirl！AndlookatthechanceIhavenow;andAuntKihmissuchadear！Think，shewrites，Icouldgotoandfromthecollegeinhercoupeeveryday，andIwouldseeNewYork;andjustbeinginabigcitylikethatisaneducation."
　　"You’reright，itwouldbeabigthingforyou，"assentedCondy，"andIliketheideaofyoustudyingsomething.Itwouldbethemakingofsuchagirlasyou，Blix."
　　AndthenBlix，seeinghimthusacquiescent，said：
　　"Well，it’sallsettled;PapumandIbothwrotelastnight."
　　"Whenareyougoing？"
　　"ThefirstweekinJanuary."
　　"Well，that’snotsoAWFULLYsoon.Butwhowilltakeyourplacehere？Howeverintheworldwouldyourfathergetalongwithoutyou——andSnookyandHoward？"
　　"AuntDoddisgoingtocome."
　　"Suddenenough，"saidCondy，"butitISagreatthingforyou，Blix，andI’mmightygladforyou.Yourfutureisallcutoutforyounow.Ofcourseyouraunt，ifshe’ssofondofyouandhasn’tanychildren，willleaveyoueverything——maybesettlesomethingonyourightaway;andyou’llmarrysomeoneofthoseNewYorkchaps，andbegreatbigpeoplebeforeyouknowit."
　　"Theidea，Condy！"sheprotested."No;I’mgoingtheretostudymedicine.Oh，youdon’tknowhowenthusiasticIamovertheidea！
　　I’veboughtsomeofthefirst—yearbooksalready，andhavebeenreadingthem.Really，Condy，theyareevenbetterthan’ManyInventions.’"
　　"WishIcouldgetEast，"mutteredCondygloomily.Blixforgotherowngoodfortuneupontheinstant.
　　"IdosowishyouCOULD，Condy！"sheexclaimed."YouaretoogoodforaSundaysupplement.IknowitandYOUknowit，andI’veheardeversomanypeoplewhohavereadyourstoriessaythesamething.
　　Youcouldspendtwentyyearsworkingasyouarenow，andattheendwhatwouldyoube？JustanassistanteditorofaSundaysupplement，andstillinthesameplace;andworse，you’dcometobecontentedwiththat，andthinkyouwereonlygoodforthatandnothingbetter.You’vegotitinyou，Condy，tobeagreatstory—
　　teller.Ibelieveinyou，andI’veeveryconfidenceinyou.Butjustsolongasyoustayhereandarewillingtodohackwork，justsolongyouwillbeahackwriter.Youmustbreakfromit;
　　youMUSTgetaway.Iknowyouhaveagoodtimehere;buttherearesomanythingsbetterthanthatandmoreworthwhile.YououghttomakeupyourmindtogetEast，andworkforthatandnothingelse.Iknowyouwanttogo，butwantingisn’tenough.
　　Enthusiasmwithoutenergyisn’tenough.Youhaveenthusiasm，Condy;butyouMUSThaveenergy.Youmustbewillingtogiveupthings;youmustmakeupyourmindthatyouwillgoEast，andthensetyourteethtogetheranddoit.Oh，ILOVEamanthatcandothat——makeuphismindtoathingandthenputitthrough！"
　　Condywatchedherasshetalked，herbrown—blackeyescoruscating，hercheeksglowing，hersmallhandscurledintoroundpinkfists.
　　"Blix，you’resplendid！"heexclaimed;"you’refine！Youcouldputlifeintoadeadman.You’rethekindofgirlthatarethemakingofmen.ByJove，you’dbackamanup，wouldn’tyou？You’dstandbyhimtillthelastditch.Ofcourse，"hewentonafterapause——
　　"ofcourseIoughttogotoNewYork.But，Blix，supposeIwent——
　　well，thenwhat？Itisn’tasthoughIhadanyincomeofmyown，orrichaunt.SupposeIdidn’tfindsomethingtodo——andthechancesarethatIwouldn’tforthreeorfourmonths——whatwouldI
　　liveoninthemeanwhile？’Whatwouldtherobindothen，poorthing？’I’mapooryoungman，MissBessemer，andI’vegottoeat.
　　No;myonlychanceis’tobediscovered’byamagazineorapublishinghouseorsomebody，andgetabidofsomekind."
　　"Well，thereistheCentennialCompany.Theyhavetakenaninterestinyou，Condy.Youmustfollowthatrightupandkeepyournamebeforethemallthetime.Haveyousentthem’AVictoryOverDeath’yet？"
　　Condysatdowntohiseggsandcoffeethenextmorninginthehotel，harriedwithacertainsenseofdepressionanddisappointmentforwhichhecouldassignnocause.Nothingseemedtointeresthim.Thenewspaperwasdull.Hecouldlookforwardtonopleasureinhisday’swork;andwhatwasthematterwiththesunthatmorning？Ashewalkeddowntotheofficehenotednocloudinthesky，butthebrightnesswasgonefromtheday.Hesatdowntohisdeskandattackedhiswork，but"copy"wouldnotcome.Thesportingeditorandhisinanejokesharassedhimbeyondexpression.Justthesightoftheclippingeditor’sbackwasanirritation.Theofficeboywasamereincentivetoprofanity.
　　TherewasnospringinCondythatmorning，noelasticity，noneofhisnaturalbuoyancy.Asthedayworeon，hisennuiincreased;
　　hisluncheonattheclubwastasteless，tobaccohadlostitscharm.Heorderedacocktailinthewine—room，andputitasidewithawryface.
　　Theafternoonwasonelongtedium.Ateveryhourheflunghispencildown，utterlyunabletoformulatethenextsentenceofhisarticle，and，hishandsinhispockets，gazedgloomilyoutofthewindowoverthewildernessofroofs——grimy，dirty，uglyroofsthatspreadoutbelow.Hecraveddiversion，amusement，excitement.
　　Somethingtherewasthathewantedwithallhisheartandsoul;
　　yethewasquiteunabletosaywhatitwas.Somethingwasgonefromhimto—daythathehadpossessedyesterday，andheknewhewouldnotregainitonthemorrow，northenextday，northedayafterthat.Whatwasit？Hecouldnotsay.Forhalfanhourheimaginedhewasgoingtobesick.Hismotherwasnottobeathomethatevening，andCondydinedathisclubinthehopesoffindingsomeonewithwhomhecouldgotothetheatrelateronintheevening.Sargeantjoinedhimoverhiscoffeeandcigarette，butdeclinedtogowithhimtothetheatre.
　　"Anothergameonto—night？"askedCondy.
　　"Isupposeso，"admittedtheother.
　　"IguessI’lljoinyouto—night，"saidCondy."I’vehadthebluedevilssincemorning，andI’vegottohavesomethingtodrivethemoff."
　　"Don’tletmeurgeyou，youknow，"returnedSargeant.
　　"Oh，that’sallright！"Condyassuredhim."Mytime’saboutup，anyways."
　　Anhourlater，justashe，Sargeant，andtheothermenoftheir"set"wereintheactofgoingupstairstothecard—rooms，ahall—
　　boygaveCondyanote，atthatmomentbroughtbyamessenger，whowaswaitingforananswer.ItwasfromBlix.Shewrote：
　　"Don’tyouwanttocomeupandplaycardswithmeto—night？Wehaven’thadagameinoveraweek？"
　　"Howdidsheknow？"thoughtCondytohimself——"howcouldshetell？"Aloud，hesaid：
　　"Ican’tjoinyoufellows，afterall.’Despatchfromthemanagingeditor.’Somespecialdetailorother."
　　ForthefirsttimesincethepreviouseveningCondyfelthisspiritsriseashesetofftowardtheWashingtonStreethill.ButthoughheandBlixspentasmerryaneveningastheyrememberedinalongtime，hisnameless，formlessirritationreturneduponhimalmostassoonashehadbiddenhergood—night.Itstayedwithhimallthroughtheweek，andtolduponhiswork.Asaresult，threeofhisarticleswerethrownoutbytheeditor.
　　"Wecan’trunsuchrotasthatinthepaper，"thechiefhadsaid.
　　"Can’tyougiveusastory？"
　　"Oh，I’vegotakindofayarnyoucanrunifyoulike，"answeredCondy，hisweek’sdepressionatitsverylowest.
　　"AVictoryOverDeath"waspublishedinthefollowingSunday’ssupplementofthe"Times，"withillustrationsbyoneofthestaffartists.Itattractednottheleastattention.
　　JustbeforehewenttobedtheSundayeveningofitsappearance，Condyreaditoveragainforthelasttime.
　　"It’sarottenfailure，"hemutteredgloomilyashecastthepaperfromhim."Simpledrivel.IwonderwhatBlixwillthinkofit.
　　IwonderifIamounttoahillofbeans.IwonderWHATshewantstogoEastfor，anyway."
　　ChapterIX
　　Theold—fashionedUnionStreetcablecar，withitslow，comfortableoutsideseats，putBlixandCondydownjustinsidethePresidioGovernmentReservation.CondyaskedadirectionofasentrynursinghisKrag—Jorgensenattheterminusofthetrack，andthenwithBlixsetoffdownthelongboardwalkthroughthetunnelofoverhangingevergreens.
　　Thedaycouldnothavebeenmoredesirable.ItwasalittleaftertenofaMondaymorning，Condy’sweeklyholiday.Theairwasneithercoolnorwarm，effervescentmerely，briskandfullofthesmellofgrassandofthesea.Theskywasaspecklesssheenofpaleblue.Totheirright，andnotfaroff，wasthebay，blueasindigo.Alcatrazseemedcloseathand;beyondwastheenormousgreen，red，andpurplepyramidofTamalpaisclimbingoutofthewater，headandshouldersabovethelittlefoothills，andlookingouttotheseaandtothewest.
　　TheReservationitselfwasdelightful.Therewererowsoftheofficers’houses，allalike，drawnupinlineslikeanassemblyofthestaff;therewerehugebarracks，mostlikecollegedormitories;andontheirporchesenlistedmeninshirtsleevesandoverallswerecleaningsaddles，andpolishingthebrassofhead—stallsandbridles，whistlingthewhileorsmokingcorn—cobpipes.Hereontheparade—groundasoldier，hiscoatandvestremoved，wasbattinggroundersandfliestoahalf—dozenofhisfellows.Overbythestables，stringsofhorses，allofthesamecolor，werebeingcurriedandcleaned.Ayounglieutenantuponabicyclespunsilentlypast.Anofficercamefromhisfrontgate，hiscoatunbuttonedandabriarinhisteeth.Thewalksandroadswereflankedwithlinesofblack—paintedcannon—balls;invertedpiecesofabandonedordnancestoodatcorners.Fromadistancecamethemellowsnarlingofabugle.
　　BlixandCondyhadplannedalongwalkforthatday.TheyweretogooutthroughthePresidioReservation，pastthebarracksandofficers’quarters，andontotheoldfortattheGoldenGate.
　　Heretheywouldturnandfollowtheshore—lineforaway，thenstrikeinlandacrossthehillsforashorthalf—mile，andregainthecityandthestreet—carlinesbywayofthegolf—links.Condyhadinsisteduponwearinghisbicycleoutfitfortheoccasion，and，moreover，carriedalittlesatchel，which，hesaid，containedapairofshoes.
　　ButBlixwasassweetasarosethatmorning，allintailor—madeblackbutfortheinevitablebandsofwhitesatinwrappedhighandtightaboutherneck.TheSt.Bernarddog—collardiddutyasabelt.Shehaddisdainedaveil，andheryellowhairwasalreadyblowingabouthersmoothpinkcheeks.Shewalkedathisside，herstepasfirmandsolidashisown，herround，strongarmsswinging，herlittlebrowneyesshiningwithgoodspiritsandvigor，andthepure，cleananimaljoyofbeingaliveonthatfinecoolWesternmorning.Shetalkedalmostincessantly.Shewaspositivelygarrulous.Shetalkedaboutthefinedaythatitwas，aboutthequeernewforagecapsofthesoldiers，aboutthebaregreenhillsoftheReservation，aboutthelittlecemeterytheypassedjustbeyondthelimitsofthebarracks，aboutarabbitshesaw，andaboutthequailtheybothheardwhistlingandcallinginthehollowsunderthebushes.
　　Condywalkedathersideinsilence，yetnolesshappythanshe，smokinghispipeandcastingoccasionalglancesatagreatship——afour—masterthatwasbeingtowedouttowardtheGoldenGate.Ateverymomentandateveryturntheynotedthingsthatinterestedthem，andtowhichtheycalledeachother’sattention.
　　"Look，Blix！"
　　"Oh，Condy，lookatthat！"
　　TheyweresoonoutoftheminiaturecityofthePost，andheldondownthroughthelowreachoftulesandsand—dunesthatstretchbetweenthebarracksandtheoldredfort.
　　"Look，Condy！"saidBlix."What’sthatbuildingdownthereontheshoreofthebay——theonewiththeflagstaff？"
　　"Ithinkthatmustbethelifeboatstation."
　　"Iwonderifwecouldgodownandvisitit.Ithinkitwouldbegoodfun."
　　"Idea！"exclaimedCondy.
　　Thestationwascloseathand.Toreachittheyhadbuttoleavethecrazyboardwalkthatledontowardthefort，andcrossafewhundredyardsofsand—dune.Condyopenedthegatethatbrokethelineofevergreenhedgearoundthelittletwo—storyhouse，andpromptlyunchainedaveritablepandemoniumofdogs.
　　Inside，theplacewasnotwithoutacertaincharmofitsown.A
　　brickwall，borderedwithshells，ledtothefrontofthestation，whichgavedirectlyuponthebay;alittlewell—keptlawnopenedtorightandleft，andsixoreightgaily—paintedoldrowboatsweresetabout，halffilledwithloaminwhichfuchsias，geraniums，andmignonetteswereflowering.Acatortwodozeduponthewindow—sillsinthesun.Uponasortofporchoverhead，twoofthecrewpacedupanddowninamannerthatatoncesuggestedthepoop.Hereandtherewasagleamofhighlypolishedredcopperorbrasstrimmings.Thebaywaswithintwostepsofthefrontdoor，whilealittlefurtherdownthebeachwasthehousewherethesurf—boatwaskept，andthelongrunwayleadingdownfromittothewater.Condyrappedloudlyatthefrontdoor.
　　ItwasopenedbyCaptainJack.
　　CaptainJack，andnoother;onlynowheworeabluesweaterandaleather—visoredcap，withthelettersU.S.L.B.S.aroundtheband.
　　Notaninstantwasgiventhemforpreparation.Thethinghadhappenedwiththeabruptnessofatransformationsceneatatheatre.Condy’sknockhadevokedasituation.Speechwasstrickenfromtheirmouths.Foramomenttheywerebereftevenofaction，andstoodthereonthethreshold，staringopen—mouthedandopen—eyedatthesuddenreappearanceoftheir"matrimonialobject."Condywasliterallydumb;intheenditwasBlixwhotidedthemoverthecrisis.
　　"Wewerejustgoingby——justtakingawalk，"sheexplained，"andwethoughtwe’dliketoseethestation.Isitallright？Canwelookaround？"
　　"Why，ofcourse，"assentedtheCaptainwithgreatcordiality.
　　"Comerightin.Thisisvisitors’day.Youjusthappenedtohitit——onlyit’smightyfewvisitorsweeverhave，"headded.
　　WhileCondywasregisteringforhimselfandBlix，theymanagedtoexchangealightningglance.ItwasevidenttheCaptaindidnotrecognizethem.Thesituationreadjusteditself，evenpromisedtobeofextraordinaryinterest.Andforthatmatteritmadelittledifferencewhetherthecaptainrememberedthemornot.
　　"No，wedon’tgetmanyvisitors，"theCaptainwenton，asheledthemoutofthestationanddownthesmallgravelwalktothehousewherethesurf—boatwaskept."Thisisaquietstation.
　　Peopledon’tfetchoutthiswayveryoften，andwe’renotcalledoutveryoften，either.We’reaninsidepost，yousee，andusuallywedon’tgetacallunlessthesea’ssohighthattheCliffHousestationcan’tlaunchtheirboat.So，yousee，wedon’tgooutmuch，butwhenweDO，itmeansbusinesswithagreatbigB.Now，thishere，yousee，"continuedtheCaptain，rollingbacktheslidingdoorsofthehouse，"isthesurf—boat.Bytheway，let’ssee;Iain’tjustcaughtyournamesyet."
　　"Well，myname’sRivers，"saidCondy，"andthisisMissBessemer.
　　We’rebothfromthecity."
　　"Happytoknowyou，sir;happytoknowyou，miss，"hereturned，pullingoffhiscap."Myname’sHoskins，butyoucanjustcallmeCaptainJack.I’msousedtoitthatIdon’tkindofanswertotheother.Well，now，MissBessemer，thishere’sthesurf—boat;
　　she’sself—rightin’，self—bailin’，shecan’tcapsize，andifIwastotellyouhowmanythousandsofdollarsshecost，youwouldn’tbelieveme."
　　CondyandBlixspentadelightfulhalf—hourintheboat—housewhileCaptainJackexplainedandillustrated，andtoldthemanecdotesofwrecks，escapes，andrescuestilltheyheldtheirbreathsliketen—year—olds.
　　ItdidnottakeCondylongtoknowthathehaddiscoveredwhatthestory—tellersooftentellsofbutsoseldomfinds，andwhat，forwantofabettername，heelectstocall"acharacter."
　　CaptainJackhadbeeneverywhere，hadseeneverything，andhaddonemostofthethingsworthdoing，includingagreatmanythingsthathehadfarbetterhaveleftundone.ButonthislatterpointtheCaptainseemedtobeinnocentlyandcompletelydevoidofamoralsenseofrightandwrong.ItwasquiteevidentthathesawnomatterforconscienceinthesmugglingofChinamenacrossthe，Canadianborderatthirtydollarsahead——aventureinwhichhehadhadtheassistanceoftheprodigalsonofanAmericandivineofinternationalrenown.ThetradetoPeruvianinsurgentsofcondemnedrifleswastoberegrettedonlybecausetheringmanipulatingitwasbrokenup.TheappropriationofaschoonerintheharborofCallaowasastoryinitself;whiletherobberyofthirtythousanddollars’worthofsea—otterskinsfromaRussiantrading—postinAlaska，accomplishedchieflythroughtheagencyofabarrelofrummanufacturedfromsugar—cane，wasaveritableachievement.
　　Hehadbeenborn，sohetoldthem，inWinchester，inEngland，and——
　　Heavensavethemark！——hadbeenbroughtupwithaviewoftakingorders.ForsometimehewasachoirboyinthegreatWinchesterCathedral;then，whileyetalad，hadgonetosea.Hehadbeenboat—steereronaNewBedfordwhaler，andstruckhisfirstwhalewhenonlysixteen.HehadfilibustereddowntoChili;hadactedasicepilotonanArcticreliefexpedition;hadcaptainedacrewofChinamenshark—fishinginMagdalenaBay，andhadbeennearlymurderedbyhismen;hadbeenadeep—seadiver，andhadbursthisear—drumsatthebusiness，sothatnowhecouldblowtobaccosmokeoutofhisears;hehadbeenshipwreckedintheGilberts，foughtwiththeSerisonthelowerCaliforniaIslands，soldchampagne——
　　madefromrockcandy，effervescentsalts，andReislingwine——totheCoreans，haddreamedof"holdingup"aCunardliner，andhadriddenontheStrandinahansomwithWilliamEwartGladstone.
　　Buttheonethingofwhichhewasproud，theonepictureofhislifehemostdelightedtorecall，washimselfasmanagerofanegrominstreltroupe，inahireddrum—major’suniform，marchingdownthestreetsofSacramentoattheheadofthebrassbandinburntcorkandregimentals.
　　"Thestarofthetroupe，"hetoldthem，"wastheladywiththeironjore.WebustedinStockton，andshegavemeherdiamondstopawn.Ipawned’em，andkeptbacksomethinginthehandformyselfandhookedittoSanFrancisco.Strikemestraightifshedidn’tfollowme，thatiron—joredpiece;metmeonedayinfrontoftheBushStreetTheatre，andhorsewhippedmeproperly.Now，justthinkofthat"——andhelaughedasthoughitwasthebestkindofajoke.
　　"But，"hazardedBlix，"don’tyoufinditratherdullouthere——
　　lonesome？Ishouldthinkyouwouldwanttohavesomeonewithyoutokeepyoucompany——to——todoyourcookingforyou？"
　　ButCondy，ignoringherdiplomacyandthinkingonlyofpossiblestories，blunderedoffuponanothertrack.
　　"Yes，"hesaid，"you’veledsuchalifeofaction，Ishouldthinkthisstationwouldbeprettydullforyou.Howdidyouhappentochooseit？"
　　"Well，yousee，answeredtheCaptain，leaningagainstthesmoothwhiteflankofthesurf—boat，hishandsinhispockets，"I’mlyinglowjustnow.IgotintoascrapedownatLibertad，inMexico，thatmadetalk，andI’mwaitingforthattodiedownsome.Yousee，itwasthisway."
　　Mindfuloftheirexperiencewiththemateofthewhaleback，CondyandBlixwereallattentioninaninstant.Blixsatdownuponanupturnedbox，herelbowsonherknees，leaningforward，herlittleeyesfixedandshiningwithinterestandexpectation;Condy，thestory—tellerallaliveandvibrantinhim，stoodatherelbow，smokingcigaretteaftercigarette，hisfingersdancingwithexcitementandanimationastheCaptainspoke.
　　AndthenitwasthatCondyandBlix，inthatisolatedstation，thebaylappingattheshorewithinear—shot，inthatatmosphereredolentofpaintandoakumandofseaweeddecayinguponthebeachoutside，firstheardthestoryof"InDefianceofAuthority."
　　CaptainJackbeganitwithhisexperienceasarestaurantkeeperduringtheboomdaysinSeattle，Washington.Hetoldthemhowhewasthecashierofadining—saloonwhosedailynetprofitsexceededeighthundreddollars;howitsproprietorsuddenlydied，andhowhe，CaptainJack，continuedthemanagementoftherestaurantpendingasettlementoftheproprietor’saffairsandanappearanceofheirs;howintheconfusionandexcitementoftheboomnosettlementwasevermade;andhow，noheirsappearing，heassumedchargeoftheestablishmenthimself，payingbills，makingcontracts，andsigningnotes，untilhecametoconsiderthebusinessandallitsenormousprofitsashisown;andhowatlast，whentherestaurantwasburned，hefoundhimselfsomefortythousanddollars"aheadofthegame."
　　Thenhetoldthemofthestrangecluboftheplace，called"TheExiles，"madeupchieflyof"youngersons"ofEnglishandBritish—
　　Canadianfamilies，everymemberpossessedofa"past"moreorlessdisreputable;menwhohadlefttheircountryfortheircountry’sgood，andfortheirfamily’speaceofmind——adventurers，wanderers，soldiersoffortune，gentlemen—vagabonds，menofhyphenatednamesandevennoblebirth，whoseappellationswereavowedlyaliases.HetoldthemofhismeetingwithBillyIsham，oneoftheclub’sdirectors，andofthehappy—go—lucky，reckless，unpracticalcharacteroftheman;oftheiracquaintance，intimacy，andsubsequentpartnership;ofhowthefilibusteringprojectwasstartedwithCaptainJack’sfortythousand，andthenever—to—be—
　　forgotteninterviewinSanFranciscowithSenoraEstrada，theagentoftheinsurgents;oftheincidentofhercalling—card——howshetoreitintwoandgaveone—halftoIsham;oftheiroutfitting，andthebrokensextantthatwastocausetheirultimatediscomfitureanddisaster，andofthevoyagetotherendezvousonaPanamaliner.
　　"Strikeme！"continuedCaptainJack，"youshouldhaveseenBillyIshamonthatPanamadough—dish;apassengershipshewas，andBillywasthelifeofherfromstemtostern—post.TherewasachurchpulpitaboardthattheyweretakingdowntoMazatlanforsomechapelorother，andthisherepulpitwaslashedondeckaft.
　　Well，Billyhadbeenmostkindsofafoolinhislife，andamongothersaplay—actor;calledhimselfGastonMaundeville，andwascleandaftonhisknowledgeofShakespeareandhisownpowerofinterpretin’thehiddenmeanin’ofthelines.Iain’tnevergoingtoforgitthedayhegaveusPortia’sspeech.Wewerejustunderthetropic，andthedaywasascorcher.Therewasmostlymenfolkaboard，andwelayaroundthedeckinourpajamas，whileBilly——
　　GastonMaundeville，dressedinstripedredandwhitepajamas——clumupinthatballypulpit，withtheship’sShakespeareinhishands，an’letushave——’Thequalityo’mercyisn’tstrained;itdroppethasthegenteeldewfromheavun.’Laugh，ItellyouIwassorewithit.Lord，howweguyedhim！An’themoreweguyedandthemorewelaughed，themoreserioushegotandthemadderhegrew.Hesaidhewasinterpretin’thehiddenmeanin’ofthelines."
　　AndsotheCaptainranthroughthatwild，fierytale——offightingandloving，buccaneeringandconspiring;mandolinstinkling，knivesclicking;oathsminglingwithsonnets，andspilledwinewithspilledblood.HetoldthemofIsham’sknifeduelwiththeMexicanlieutenant，theirleftwristslashedtogether;ofthe"battleofthethirty"inthepitchdarkoftheCustomHousecellar;ofSenoraEstrada’sloveforIsham;andalltherollandplungeofactionthatmakeupthestoryof"InDefianceofAuthority."
　　Attheend，Blix’slittleeyesweresnappinglikesparks;Condy’sfacewasflaming，hishandswerecold，andhewasshiftinghisweightfromfoottofoot，likeanexcitedthoroughbredhorse.
　　"Heavensandearth，whatayarn！"heexclaimedalmostinawhisper.
　　Blixdrewalong，tremulousbreathandsatbackupontheupturnedbox，lookingaroundherasthoughshehadbutthatmomentbeenawakened.
　　"Yes，sir，"saidtheCaptain，rollingacigarette."Yes，sir，thoseweregreatdays.Getdowntherearoundthelineinthoselittle，out—o’—the—wayrepublicsalongtheSouthAmericancoast，andthingshappentoyou.Youholdaman’slifeinthecrookofyourforefinger，an’nothing’sdonebyhalves.Ifyouhateaman，youlayawakenightsbitingyourmattress，justthinkinghowyouhatehim;an’ifyouloveawoman——goodLord，howyoudoLOVE
　　her！"
　　"But——but！"exclaimedCondy，"Idon’tseehowyoucanwanttodoanythingelse.Why，you’relivingsixtytotheminutewhenyou’replayingagamelikethat！"
　　"Oh，Iain’tdeadyet！"answeredtheCaptain."IgotafewschemesleftthatIcouldgetfunoutof."
　　"Howcanyouwaitaminute！"exclaimedBlixbreathlessly."Whydon’tyougetashiprightaway——to—morrow——andgorightoffonsomeotheradventure？"
　　"Well，Ican’tjustnow，"returnedtheCaptain，blowingthesmokefromhiscigarettethroughhisears."There’sagoodmanyreasons;oneof’emisthatI’vejustbeenmarried."
　　ChapterX
　　Mum——mar——married！gaspedCondy，swallowingsomethinginhisthroat.
　　Blixrosetoherfeet.
　　"JustbeenMARRIED！"sherepeated，alittlefrightened."Why——
　　why——why;howDELIGHTFUL！"
　　"Yes——yes，"mumbledCondy."Howdelightful.Icongratulateyou！"
　　"Comein——comebacktothestation，"saidtheCaptainjovially，"andI’llintroduceyoutom’wife.WeweremarriedonlylastSunday."
　　"Why，yes——yes，ofcourse，we’dbedelighted，"vociferatedthetwoconspiratorsalittlehysterically.
　　"She’samightyfinelittlewoman，"declaredtheCaptain，asherolledthedooroftheboat—housetoitsplaceandprecededthemupthegravelwalktothestation.
　　"Ofcoursesheis，"respondedBlix.BehindCaptainJack’sbackshefixedCondywithawide—eyedlook，andnudgedhimfiercelywithanelbowtorecallhimtohimself;forCondy’switswerescatteredlikeaflockofterrifiedbirds，andhewasgazingblanklyattheCaptain’scoatcollarwithavacant，maniacalsmile.
　　"ForHeaven’ssake，Condy！"shehadtimetowhisperbeforetheyarrivedinthehallwayofthestation.
　　Butfortunatelytheywereallowedaminuteorsotorecoverthemselvesandprepareforwhatwascoming.CaptainJackusheredthemintowhatwaseithertheparlor，office，orsitting—roomofthestation，andleftthemwiththewords：
　　"Justmakeyourselvescomfortablehere，an’I’llgofetchthelittlewoman."
　　Nosoonerhadhegonethanthetwoturnedtoeachother.
　　"Well！"
　　"WELL！"
　　"We’reinforitnow."
　　"Butwemustseeitthrough，Condy;actjustasnaturalasyoucan，andwe’reallright."
　　"ButsupposingSHErecognizesus！"
　　"Supposingshedoes——whatthen.HowAREtheytoknowthatwewrotetheletters？"
　　"Sh，Blix，notsoloud！TheyknowbynowthatTHEYdidn’t."
　　"Butitseemsthatithasn’tmadeanydifferencetothem;theyaremarried.Andbesides，theywouldn’tspeakaboutputting’personals’inthepapertous.Theywouldneverletanybodyknowthat."
　　"Doyousupposetheycouldpossiblysuspect？"
　　"I’msuretheycouldn’t."
　　"Heretheycome."
　　"Keepperfectlycalm，andwe’resaved."
　　"Supposeitisn’tK.D.B.，afterall？"
　　Butitwas，ofcourse，andsherecognizedtheminaninstant.SheandtheCaptain——thelatterallgrins——cameinfromthedirectionofthekitchen，K.D.B.wearinganeatbluecalicogownandanapronthatwasreallyamarvelofcleanlinessandstarch.
　　"Kitty！"exclaimedCaptainJack，seizedagainwithanunexplainablemirth，"here’ssomeyoungfolkscomeouttoseetheplacean’Iwantyoutoknow’em.Mr.Rivers，thisism’wife，Kitty，and——lessee，miss，Idon’trightlyrememberyourname."
　　"Bessemer！"exclaimedCondyandBlixinabreath.
　　"Oh！"exclaimedK.D.B.，"youwereintherestaurantthenightthattheCaptainandI——I——thatis——yes，I’mquitesureI’veseenyoubefore."Sheturnedfromonetotheother.beginningtoblushfuriously.
　　"Yes，yes，inLuna’srestaurant，wasn’tit？"saidCondydesperately."ItseemstomeIdojustbarelyremember."
　　"Andwasn’ttheCaptainthere？"Blixventured.
　　"Iforgotmystick，Iremember，"continuedCondy."Icamebackforit;andjustasIwasgoingoutitseemstomeIsawyoutwoatatablenearthedoor."
　　Hethoughtitbesttoallowtheir"matrimonialobjects"tobelievehehadnotseenthembefore.
　　"Yes，yes，wewerethere，"answeredK.D.B.tactfully."WedinetherealmosteveryMondaynight."
　　BlixguessedthatK.D.B.wouldprefertohavetherealfactsofthesituationignored，anddeterminedsheshouldhavethechancetochangetheconversationifshewished.
　　"Whatadelicioussupperonehasthere！"shesaid.
　　"Can’tsayIlikeMexicancookingmyself，"answeredK.D.B.，forgettingthattheydinedthereeveryMondaynight."PlainUnitedStatesisgoodenoughforme."
　　SuddenlyCaptainJackturnedabruptlytoCondy，exclaiming："Oh，youwasthechapthatcalledthepictureofthatschoonerabarkentine."
　　"Yes;WASN’Tthatabarkentine？"heansweredinnocently.
　　"BarkentineyourEYE！"splutteredtheCaptain."Why，thatwasaschoonerasplainasapieplate."
　　Buttenminuteslatertheordealwasover，andBlixandCondy，oncemorebreathingeasily，wereontheirwalkagain.TheCaptainandK.D.B.hadevenaccompaniedthemtothegateofthestation，andhadstrenuouslyurgedthemto"comeinandseethemagainthenexttimetheywereoutthatway."
　　"Married！"murmuredCondy，puttingbothhandstohishead."We’vedoneit，we’vedoneitnow."
　　"Well，whatofit？"declaredBlix，alittledefiantly."Ithinkit’sallright.YoucanseetheCaptainisinlovewithher，andshewithhim.No，we’venothingtoreproachourselveswith."
　　"But——but——butsosudden！"whisperedCondy，allaghast."That’swhatmakesmefaint——thesuddennessofit."
　　"Itshowshowmuchtheyareinlove，how——howreadilythey——
　　adaptedthemselvestoeachother.No，it’sallright."
　　"Theyseemedtolikeus——actually."
　　"Well，theyhadbetter——iftheyknewthetruth.Withoutustheyneverwouldhavemet."
　　"Theybothaskedustocomeoutandseethemagain，didyounoticethat？Let’sdoit，Blix，"Condysuddenlyexclaimed;"let’sgettoknowthem！"
　　"Ofcoursewemust.Wouldn’titbefuntocallonthem——togetregularlyacquaintedwiththem！"
　　"Theymightaskustodinnersometime."
　　"Andthinkofthestorieshecouldtellyou！"
　　Theyenthusedimmediatelyuponthissubject，bothtalkingexcitedlyatthesametime，goingoverthedetailsoftheCaptain’syarns，recallingtheincidentstoeachother.
　　"Fancy！"exclaimedCondy——"fancyBillyIshaminhispajamas，redandwhitestripes，readingShakespearefromthatpulpitonboardtheship，andtheothermenguyinghim！Isn’tthataSCENEforyou？Can’tyoujustSEEit？
　　"IwonderiftheCaptainwasn’tmakingallthosethingsupashewentalong.Hedon’tseemtohaveanysenseofrightandwrongatall.Hemighthavebeenlying，Condy."
　　"Whatdifferencewouldthatmake？"
　　Andsotheywentalonginthatfine，clear，Westernmorning，ontheedgeoftheContinent，bothofthemyoungandstrongandvigorous，thePacificundertheireyes，thegreatcleanTradesblowingintheirfaces，thesmellofthesaltseacominginlongaromaticwhiffstotheirnostrils.Youngandstrongandfresh，theirimaginationsthrongingwithpicturesofvigorousactionandadventure，buccaneering，filibustering，andalltheswing，theleap，therushandgallop，theexuberant，stronglifeofthegreat，unchartedworldofRomance.
　　AndallunknowinglytheywereaRomanceinthemselves.Cynicism，oldage，andthewearinessofallthingsdonehadnoplaceintheworldinwhichtheywalked.Theystillhadtheirillusions，allthekeennessoftheirsensations，allthevividnessoftheirimpressions.Thesimplethingsoftheworld，thegreat，broad，primalemotionsoftheracestirredinthem.Astheyswungalong，goingtowardtheocean，theirbrainswerealmostasemptyofthoughtorofreflectionasthoseoftwofine，cleananimals.
　　Theywereallfortheimmediatesensation;theydidnotthink——
　　theyFELT.Theintellectwasdormant;theylookedatthings，theyheardthings，theysmelledthesmellofthesea，andoftheseaweed，ofthefat，rankgrowthofcressesinthesaltmarshes;
　　theyturnedtheircheekstothepassingwind，andfilledtheirmouthsandbreastswithit.Theirlifewassweettothem;everyhourwasonegladeffervescence.Thefactthattheoceanwasbluewasamatterforrejoicing.Itwasgoodtobealiveonthatroyalmorning.Justtobeyoungwasanexhilaration;andeverythingwasyoungwiththem——thedaywasyoung，thecountrywasyoung，andthecivilizationtowhichtheybelonged，teemingthereuponthegreen，Westernfringeofthecontinent，wasyoungandheadyandtumultuouswiththeboisterous，redbloodofanewrace.
　　Condyevenforgot，orratherdisdainedonsuchamorningasthat，topiecetogetherandrearrangeCaptainJack’syarnsintostoryform.Tolookattheseaandthegreenhills，towatchthepinkonBlix’scheekandheryellowhairblowingacrosshereyesandlips，wasbetterthanthinking.Lifewasbetterthanliterature.
　　Tolivewasbetterthantoread;onelivehumanbeingwasbetterthantenthousandShakespeares;anactwasbetterthanathought.
　　Why，justtoloveBlix，tobewithher，toseethesweet，cleanflushofhercheek，toknowthatshewasthereathisside，andtohavethetouchofherelbowastheywalked，wasbetterthanthebeststory，thegreatestnovelhecouldeverhopetowrite.Lifewasbetterthanliterature，andlovewasthebestthinginlife.
　　ToloveBlixandtobenearher——whatelsewasworthwhile？Couldheeverthinkoffindinganythinginlifesweeterandfinerthanthisdearyounggirlofnineteen？
　　SuddenlyCondycametohimselfwithanabruptstart.Whatwasthishewasthinking——whatwasthishewastellinghimself？LoveBlix！HelovedBlix！Why，ofCOURSEhelovedher——lovedherso，thatwiththethoughtofittherecameagreat，suddenclutchattheheartandastrangesenseoftenderness，sovagueandyetsogreatthatiteludedspeechandallexpression.Loveher！Ofcoursehelovedher！Hehad，allunknowing，lovedherevenbeforethiswonderfulmorning：hadlovedherthatdayatthelake，andthatnever—to—be—forgotten，deliciousafternoonintheChineserestaurant;allthoselong，quieteveningsspentinthewindowofthelittledining—room，lookingdownuponthedarkeningcity，hehadlovedher.Why，allhisdaysforthelastfewmonthshadbeenfulloftheloveofher.
　　Howelsehadhebeensohappy？howelsediditcomeaboutthatlittlebylittlehewaswithdrawingfromthesocietyandinfluenceofhisartificialworld，asrepresentedbysuchmenasSargeant？
　　howelsewasheslowlylooseningthegripoftheoneevilandvicioushabitthathadclutchedhimsolong？howelsewashisambitionstirring？howelsewashishithertoaimlessenthusiasmhardeningtoenergyanddetermination？Shehadnotalwayssoinfluencedhim.Inthedayswhentheyhadjustknowneachother，andmeteachotherintheweeklycourseoftheirformallife，ithadnotbeenso，eventhoughtheypretendedacertainamountofaffection.HerememberedtheeveningwhenBlixhadbroughtthosedaystoanabruptend，andhowatthemomenthehadtoldhimselfthatafterallhehadneverknowntherealBlix.Sincethen，inthecharming，unconventionallifetheyhadled，everythinghadbeenchanged.Hehadcometoknowherforwhatshewas，toknowhergenuinegoodness，hersincerity，hercontemptofaffectations，hercomradeship，hercalm，finestrengthandunbrokengoodnature;
　　anddaybyday，herealittleandtherealittle，hisloveforherhadgrownsoquietly，soevenly，thathehadneverknownit，untilnow，behold！itwassuddenlycometoflower，fullandstrong——aflowerwhosefragrancehadsuddenlyfilledallhislifeandallhisworldwithitssweetness.
　　Halfanhourafterleavingthelifeboatstation，CondyandBlixreachedtheold，red—brickfort，deserted，abandoned，andrime—
　　incrusted，attheentranceoftheGoldenGate.Theyturneditsangle，andthererolledthePacific，abluefloorofshiftingwater，stretchingoutthereforeverandforeveroverthecurveoftheearth，overtheshoulderoftheworld，withneverasailinviewandneverabreakfromhorizontohorizon.
　　Theyfolloweddowntheshore，sometimesupontheoldandbrokenflumethatrunsalongtheseawardfaceofthehillsthatrisefromthebeach，orsometimesuponthebeachitself，steppingfrombowldertobowlder，orholdingalongattheedgeofthewateruponreachesofwhite，hardsand.
　　Thebeachwassolitary;notasoulwasinsight.Closeathand，tolandward，greathills，bareandgreen，shutoffthesky;andhereandtherethelandcametumblingdownintotheseaingreat，jagged，craggyrocks，knee—deepinswirlingfoam，andallblackwithwet.Theairwasfulloftheprolongedthunderofthesurf，andatintervalssea—birdspassedoverheadwithanoccasionalpipingcry.Wreckagewastumbledabouthereandthere;andinnumerablecocoanutshards，huge，browncupsoffuzzybark，layunderfootandinthecrevicesoftherocks.Theyfoundajelly—
　　fish——apulpytranslucentmass;andonceevencaughtasightofasealinthehollowofabreaker，withsleekandshininghead，hisbarbelsbristling，andheardhishoarsecroakingbarkashehuntedtheoff—shorefish.
　　BlixrefusedtoallowCondytohelpherintheleast.Shewasquiteasactiveandstrongashe，andclamberedfromrocktorockandovertheshatteredscantlingoftheflumewiththevigorandagilityofayoungboy.Shemuddiedhershoestotheverytopsscratchedherhands，toreherskirt，andeventwistedherankle;
　　butherlittleeyeswereneversobright，norwasthepinkflushofhercheeksevermoreadorable.Andshewasneverdonetalking——
　　averitablechatterbox.Shesaweverythingandtalkedabouteverythingshesaw，quiteindifferentastowhetherornoCondylistened.Nowitwasaqueerbitofseaweed，nowitwasagroupofgullsclamoringoveradeadfish，nowapurplestarfish，nowabreakerofunusualsize.Hersplendidvitalitycarriedheraway.
　　Shewasexcited，alivetoherveryfinger—tips，vibranttotheleastsensation，quiveringtotheleastimpression.
　　"Let’sgetuphereandsitdownsomewhere，"saidCondy，atlength.
　　Theyleftthebeachandclimbeduptheslopeofthehills，nearapointwherealongarmoflandthrustoutintotheseaandshutoffthewind;apathwasthere，andtheyfolloweditforafewyards，tilltheyhadcometoalittleamphitheatresurroundedwithblackberrybushes.
　　Heretheysatdown，Blixsettlingherselfonanoldlogwithalittlesighofcontentment，Condystretchinghimselfout，anew—
　　lightedpipeinhisteeth，hisheadrestingonthelittlehandbaghehadpersistentlycarriedeversincemorning.ThenBlixfellsuddenlysilent，andforalongtimethetwosattherewithoutspeaking，absorbedintheenjoymentoflookingattheenormousgreenhillsrollingdowntothesea，thebreakersthunderingatthebeach，thegashedpinnaclesofrock，thevastreachofthePacific，andthedistantprospectoftheoldfortattheentranceoftheGoldenGate.
　　"Wemightbeathousandmilesawayfromthecity，forallthelooksofit，mightn’twe，Condy？"saidBlix，afterawhile."AndI’mthatHUNGRY！Itmustbenearlynoon."
　　Foranswer，Condysatupwithprofoundgravity，andwithagreatairofnonchalanceopenedthehandbag，and，insteadofshoestookout，first，apintbottleofclaret，then"devilish"hamsandwichesinoiledpaper，abottleofstuffedolives，agreatbagofsaltedalmonds，twolittletumblers，apaper—coverednovel，andamouthorgan.
　　Blixfairlycrowedwithdelight，claspingherhandsuponherknees，androckingtoandfrowhereshesatuponthelog.
　　"Oh，Condy，andyouthoughtofaLUNCH——yousaiditwasshoes——andyourememberedIlovedstuffedolives，too;andabooktoread.
　　Whatisit——’TheSevenSeas.’No，IneverWASsohappy.Butthemouthorgan——what’sthatfor？"
　　"Toplayon.Whatdidyouthink——thinkitwasacan—opener？"
　　Blixchokedwithmerrimentoverhisfoolery，andCondyaddedproudly：
　　"Lookthere！Imadethosesandwiches！"
　　Theylookedasthoughhehad——great，fatchunksofbread，thecruststillon;the"devilish"haminthickstratabetween;and，positively，hehadBUTTEREDthebread.Butitwasallonewiththem;theyateasthoughatabanquet，andBlixeventookoffherhatandhungitupononeofthenearbybushes.OfcourseCondyhadforgottenacorkscrew.Hetriedtodigoutthecorkoftheclaretbottlewithhisknife，untilhehadbrokenbothbladesandwasabouttogiveupindespair，whenBlix，attheendofherpatience，tookthebottlefromhimandpushedinthecorkwithherfinger.
　　"Wine，music，literature，andfeasting，"observedCondy."We’regettingregularlyluxurious，justlikeSardine—apalus."
　　ButCondyhimselfhadsuddenlyenteredintoanatmosphereofhappiness，thelikeofwhichhehadneverknownordreamedofbefore.HelovedBlix——hehadjustdiscoveredit.Helovedherbecauseshewassogenuine，soradiantlyfreshandstrong;lovedherbecauseshelikedthethingsthatheliked，becausetheytwolookedattheworldfrompreciselythesamepointofview，hatingshamsandaffectations，happyinthethingsthatweresimpleandhonestandnatural.Helovedherbecauseshelikedhisbooks，appreciatingthethingsthereinthatheappreciated，likingwhatheliked，disapprovingofwhathecondemned.Helovedherbecauseshewasnineteen，andbecauseshewassoyoungandunspoiledandwashappyjustbecausetheoceanwasblueandthemorningfine.
　　Helovedherbecauseshewassopretty，becauseofthesoftnessofheryellowhair，becauseofherround，whiteforeheadandpinkcheeks，becauseofherlittle，dark—browneyes，withthatlookinthemasifshewerejustdonesmilingorjustabouttosmile，onecouldnotsaywhich;lovedherbecauseofhergood，firmmouthandchin，becauseofherfullneckanditshigh，tightbandsofwhitesatin.Andhelovedherbecauseherarmswerestrongandround，andbecausesheworethegreatdog—collararoundhertrim，firm—
　　corsetedwaist，andbecausethereemanatedfromherwitheverymovementabarelyperceptible，delicious，feminineodor，thatwasinpartperfume，butmostlyasubtle，vaguearoma，charmingbeyondwords，thatcamefromhermouth，herhair，herneck，herarms，herwholesweetpersonality.Andhelovedherbecauseshewasherself，becauseshewasBlix，becauseofthatstrange，sweetinfluencethatwasdisengagedfromherinthosequietmomentswhensheseemedsoclosetohim，whensomeunnamed，mysterioussixthsenseinhimstirredandwokeandtoldhimofhergoodness，ofhercleanpurityandwomanliness;andthatcertain，vaguetendernessinhimwentouttowardher，atendernessnotforheronly，butforallthegoodthingsoftheworld;andhefelthisnoblersiderousingupandtheawakeningofthedesiretobehisbetterself.
　　Covertlyhelookedather，asshesatnearhim，heryellowhairrollingandblowingbackfromherforehead，herhandsclaspedoverherknee，lookingoutovertheocean，thoughtful，hereyeswide.
　　Shehadtoldhimshedidnotlovehim.Condyrememberedthatperfectlywell.Shewassincereinthematter;shedidnotlovehim.Thatsubjecthadbeenonceandforallbanishedfromtheirintercourse.Anditwasbecauseofthatveryreasonthattheircompanionshipofthelastthreeorfourmonthshadbeensocharming.Shelookeduponhimmerelyasachum.Shehadnotchangedintheleastfromthattimeuntilnow，whereashe——why，allhisworldwasnewforhimthatmorning！Why，helovedherso，shehadbecomesodeartohim，thattheverythoughtofhermadehisheartswellandleap.
　　Buthemustkeepallthistohimself.Ifhespoketoher，toldherofhowhelovedher，itwouldspoilandendtheircompanionshipupontheinstant.Theyhadbothagreeduponthat;
　　theyhadtriedtheother，andithadworkedout.Asloverstheyhadweariedofeachother;aschumstheyhadbeenperfectlycongenial，thoroughlyandcompletelyhappy.
　　Condysethisteeth.Itwasahardsituation.Hemustchoosebetweenbringinganendtothischarmingcomradeshipoftheirs，orelsefightbackallshowofloveforher，keepitdownandunderhand，andthatatatimewheneverynerveofhimquiveredlikeasmittenharp—string.Itwasnotinhimorinhistemperamenttolovehercalmly，quietly，oratadistance;hewantedthetouchofherhand，thetouchofhercool，smoothcheek，thedeliciousaromaofherbreathinhisnostrilsherlipsagainsthis，herhairandallitsfragranceinhisface"Condy，what’sthematter？"Blixwaslookingathimwithanexpressionofnolittleconcern."Whatareyoufrowningsoabout，andclinchingyourfists？Andyou’repale，too.What’sgonewrong？"
　　Heshotaglanceather，andbestirredhimselfsharply.
　　"Isn’tthisajollylittlecorner？"hesaid."Blix，howlongisitbeforeyougo？"
　　"Sixweeksfromto—morrow."
　　"Andyou’regoingtobegonefouryears——fouryears！Maybeyouneverwillcomeback.Can’ttellwhatwillhappeninfouryears.
　　Where’sthebloomingmouth—organ？"
　　Butthemouth—organwasfullofcrumbs.Condycouldnotplayonit.Toallhiseffortsitrespondedonlybygasps，mournfulestdeath—rattles，andlamentablewails.Condyhurleditintothesea.
　　"Well，where’sthebloomingbook，then？"hedemanded."You’resittingonit，Blix.Here，readsomethinginit.Openitanywhere."
　　"No;youreadtome."
　　"Iwillnot.Haven’tIdoneenough？Didn’tIbuythebookandgetthelunch，andmakethesandwiches，andpaythecar—fare？Ithinkthisexpeditionwillcostmeprettynearthreedollarsbeforewe’rethroughwiththeday.No;theleastyoucandoistoreadtome.Here，we’llmatchforit."
　　Condydrewadimefromhispocket，andBlixaquarterfromherpurse.
　　"You’rematchingme，"shesaid.
　　Condytossedthecoinandlost，andBlixsaid，ashepickedupthebook：
　　"Foramanthathassuchunvaryingbadluckasyou，gamblingisjustsimplemadness.YouandIhaveneverplayedagameofpokeryetthatI’venotwoneverycentofmoneyyouhad."
　　"Yes;andwhatareyoudoingwithitall？"
　　"Spendingit，"shereturnedloftily;"glovesandveilsandlacepins——allkindsofthings."
　　ButCondyknewthewayshespokethatthiswasnottrue.
　　Forthenexthourorsohereadtoherfrom"TheSevenSeas，"
　　whiletheafternoonpassed，thewindstirringthechaparralandblackberrybushesinthehollowsofthehuge，barehills，thesurfrollingandgrumblingonthebeachbelow，thesea—birdswheelingoverhead.Blixlistenedintently，butCondycouldnothavetoldofwhathewasreading.Livingwasbetterthanreading，lifewasbetterthanliterature，andhisnew—foundloveforherwaspoetryenoughforhim.Hereadsothathemightnottalktoherorlookather，foritseemedtohimattimesasthoughsomesecondselfinhimwouldspeakandbetrayhiminspiteofhisbestefforts.
　　Neverbeforeinallhislifehadhebeensohappy;neverbeforehadhebeensotroubled.Hebegantojumblethelinesandwordsasheread，over—runningperiods，eventurningtwopagesatonce.
　　"Whatasplendidline！"Blixexclaimed.
　　"Whatline——what——whatareyoutalkingabout？Blix，let’salwaysrememberto—day.Let’smakeapromise，nomatterwhathappensorwhereweare，let’salwayswritetoeachotherontheanniversaryofto—day.Whatdoyousay？"
　　"Yes;I’llpromise——andyou——"
　　"I’llpromisefaithfully.Oh，I’llneverforgetto—daynor——yes，yes，I’llpromise——why，to—day——Blix——where’sthatdamnbookgone？"
　　"Condy！"
　　"Well，Ican’tfindthebook.You’resittingonitagain.
　　Confoundthebook，anyway！Let’swalksomemore."
　　"We’vealongwaystogoifwe’retogethomeintimeforsupper.
　　Let’sgotoLuna’sforsupper."
　　"Ineversawsuchagirlasyoutothinkofwaysforspendingmoney.Whatkindofapurse—proudplutocratdoyouthinkIam？
　　I’veonlyseventy—fivecentsleft.Howmuchhaveyougot？"
　　Blixhadfifty—fivecentsinherpurse，andtheyhadagravecouncilovertheirfinances.Theyhadjustenoughforcar—fareandtwo"suppersMexican，"withtencentsleftover."
　　"That’sforRichard’stip，"saidBlix.
　　"That’sformyCIGAR，"heretorted.
　　"YoumadeMEgivehimfiftycents.YousaiditwastheleastI
　　couldofferhim——noblesseoblige."
　　"Well，then，ICOULDN’Tofferhimadime，don’tyousee？I’lltellhimwearebrokethistime."
　　Theystartedhome，notastheyhadcome，butclimbingthehillandgoingacrossabreezyopendown，radiantwithblueiris，wildheliotrope，yellowpoppies，andevenaviolethereandthere.A
　　littlefurtherontheygainedoneoftheroadsoftheReservation，redearthsmoothasabilliardtable;andjustatananglewheretheroadmadeasharpelbowandtrendedcityward，theypausedforamomentandlookeddownandbackatthesuperbviewoftheocean，thevasthalf—moonofland，andtherollinghillsintheforegroundtumblingdowntowardthebeachandallspangledwithwildflowers.
　　Somefifteenminuteslatertheyreachedthegolf—links.
　　"Wecangoacrossthelinks，"saidCondy，"andstrikeanynumberofcarlinesontheotherside."
　　Theylefttheroadandstruckacrossthelinks，Condysmokinghisnew—lightedpipe.Butastheycamearoundtheedgeofalonglineofeucalyptustreesneartheteeingground，awarningvoicesuddenlycalledout：
　　"Fore！"
　　CondyandBlixlookedupsharply，andthereinagroupnottwentyfeetaway，intweedsand"knickers，"insmart，shortgolfingskirtsandplaidcloaks，theysawyoungSargeantandhissister，twoothergirlswhomtheyknewasmembersofthefashionable"set，"andJackCarterintheactofswinginghisdrivingiron.
　　ChapterXI
　　Astheclockinthelibraryoftheclubstruckmidnight，Condylaiddownhispen，shovedthecloselywrittensheetsofpaperfromhim，andleanedbackinhischair，hisfingerstohistiredeyes.
　　HewassittingatadeskinoneofthefurthercornersoftheroomandshutoffbyagreatJapanesescreen.Hewasinhisshirt—
　　sleeves，hishairwastumbled，hisfingersink—stained，andhisfacealittlepale.
　　Sincelateintheeveninghehadbeensteadilywriting.Threechaptersof"InDefianceofAuthority"weredone，andhewasnowatworkonthefourth.ThedayaftertheexcursiontothePresidio——thatwonderfuleventwhichseemedtoCondytomarkthebirthdayofsomenewmanwithinhim——theideahadsuddenlyoccurredtohimthatCaptainJack’sstoryofthecluboftheexiles，theboomrestaurant，andthefilibusteringexpeditionwaspreciselythenovelofadventureofwhichtheCentennialCompanyhadspoken.Atoncehehadsettoworkuponit，withanenthusiasmthat，withshutteeth，hedeclaredwouldnotbelackinginenergy.Thestorywouldhavetobewrittenoutofhisbusinesshours.Thatmeanthewouldhavetogiveuphiseveningstoit.
　　Buthehaddonethis，andfornearlyaweekhadsettledhimselftohistaskinthequietcorneroftheclubateighto’clock，andheldtoitresolutelyuntiltwelve.
　　Thefirsttwochaptershadrunoffhispenwithdelightfulease.
　　Thethirdcameharder;theeventsandincidentsofthestorybecameconfusedandcontradictory;thecharacterofBillyIshamobstinatelyrefusedtotaketheprominentplacewhichCondyhaddesignedforhim;andwiththebeginningofthefourthchapter，Condyhadfinallycometoknowtheenormousdifficulties，theexasperatingcomplications，thediscouragementsthatbeginanewwitheveryparagraph，theobstaclesthatrefusetobesurmounted，andallthepain，thelabor，thedownrightmentaltravailandanguishthatfalltothelotofthewriterofnovels.
　　Towriteashortstorywiththeendinplainsightfromthebeginningwasaneasymattercomparedtotheupbuilding，grainbygrain，atombyatom，ofthefabricof"InDefianceofAuthority."
　　Condysoonfoundthattherewasbutonewaytogoaboutthebusiness.Hemustshuthiseyestotheendofhisnovel——thatfar—off，divineevent——andtakehistaskchapterbychapter，evenparagraphbyparagraph;grindingoutthetale，asitwere，bymainstrength，drivinghispenfromlinetoline，hatingtheeffort，happyonlywiththeterminationofeachchapter，andworkingaway，hourbyhour，minutebyminute，withthedogged，sullen，hammer—
　　and—tongsobstinacyofthegalley—slave，scourgedtohisdailytoil.
　　Attimesthetale，apparentlyoutofsheerperversity，wouldcometoafullstop.Towriteanotherwordseemedbeyondthepowerofhumaningenuity，andforanhourormoreCondywouldsitscowlingatthehalf—writtenpage，gnawinghisnails，scouringhishair，dippinghispenintotheink—well，andsquaringhimselftothesheetofpaper，alltonopurpose.
　　Therewasnopleasureinitforhim.Acharacteroncefixedinhismind，asceneoncepicturedinhisimagination，andevenbeforehehadwrittenawordthecharacterlostthecharmofitsnovelty，thescenethefreshnessofitsoriginalconception.
　　Then，withinfinitepainstakingandwithapatiencelittleshortofmiraculous，hemustslowlybuildup，brickbybrick，theplanhisbrainhadoutlinedinasingleinstant.Itwasallwork——
　　hard，disagreeable，laboriouswork;andnojugglingwithphrases，nofalsenotionsastothe"delightofcreation，"couldmakeitappearotherwise."Andforwhat，"hemutteredasherose，rolleduphissheafofmanuscript，andputonhiscoat;"whatdoIdoitfor，Idon’tknow."
　　Itwasbeyondquestionthat，hadhebegunhisnovelthreemonthsbeforethistime，Condywouldhavelongsinceabandonedthehatefultask.ButBlixhadchangedallthat.AsuddenmaleforcehadbeguntodevelopinCondy.Amaster—emotionhadshakenhim，andhehadcommencedtoseeandtofeeltheserious，moreabiding，andperhapsthesternersideoflife.Blixhadsteadiedhim，therewasnodenyingthat.Hewasnotquitethesameboyish，hairbrainedfellowwhohadmade"abuffoonofhimself"intheChineserestaurant，threemonthsbefore.
　　ThecarshadstoppedrunningbythetimeCondyreachedthestreet.
　　Hewalkedhomeandflunghimselftobed，hismindtired，hisnervesunstrung，andallthebloodofhisbodyapparentlyconcentratedinhisbrain.Workingatnightafterwritingalldaylongwastellinguponhim，andheknewit.
　　WhatwithhisworkandhiscompanionshipwithBlix，Condysoonbegantodropoutofhiswontedplaceinhis"set."Hewasobligedtodeclineoneinvitationafteranotherthatwouldtakehimoutintheevening，andinsteadoflunchingathisclubwithSargeantorGeorgeHands，ashehadbeenaccustomedtodoatonetime，hefellintoanotherhabitoflunchingwithBlixattheflatonWashingtonStreet，andspendingthetwohoursallowedtohiminthemiddleofthedayinhercompany.
　　Condy’sdesertionofthemwasoftenspokenofbythemenofhisclubwithwhomhehadbeenatonetimesointimate，andthesubjecthappenedtobebroughtupagainonenoonwhenJackCarterwasintheclubasGeorgeHands’guest.Hands，Carter，andEckertwereatoneofthewindowsovertheirafter—dinnercigarsandliqueurs.
　　"Isay，"saidEckertsuddenly，"who’sthatgirlacrossthestreetthere——theoneinblack，justgoingbythatfurrier’ssign？I’veseenhersomewherebefore.Knowwhoitis？"
　　"That’sMissBessemer，isn’tit？"saidGeorgeHands，leaningforward."Ratherastunning—lookinggirl."
　　"Yes，that’sTravisBessemer，"assentedJackCarter;adding，amomentlater，"it’stoobadaboutthatgirl."
　　"What’sthematter？"askedEckert.
　　Carterliftedashoulder."Isn’tANYTHINGthematterasfarasI
　　know，onlysomehowthebestpeoplehavedroppedher.SheUSEDtobereceivedeverywhere."
　　"Cometothink，IHAVEN’Tseenheroutmuchthisseason，"saidEckert."ButIheardshehadboltedfrom’Society’withthebigS，andwasgoingEast——goingtostudymedicine，Ibelieve."
　　"I’vealwaysnoticed，"saidCarter，withasmile，"thatsosoonasagirlisdeclassee，shedevelopsapurposeinlifeandgetsearnest，andallthatsortofthing.
　　"Oh，well，come，"growledGeorgeHands，"TravisBessemerisnotdeclassee."
　　"Ididn’tsayshewas，"answeredCarter;"butshehasmadeherselftalkedaboutagooddeallately.GoingaroundwithRivers，asshedoes，isn’tthemostdiscreetthingintheworld.Ofcourse，it’sallright，butitallmakestalk，andIcameacrossthembyagroveoftreesoutonthelinkstheotherday——"
　　"Yes，"observedSargeant，leaningonthebackofCarter’sarmchair;"yes;andInoticed，too，thatshecutyoudead.Youfellowsshouldhavebeenthere，"hewenton，inperfectgoodhumor，turningtotheothers."Youmissedagoodlittlescene.
　　RiversandMissBessemerhadbeentakingatrampovertheReservation——and，bytheway，it’sagreatplacetowalk，somysistertellsme;sheandDickForsythetakeaconstitutionaloutthereeverySaturdaymorning——well，asIwassaying，RiversandMissBessemercameuponourpartyratherunexpectedly.Wewerealltoggedoutinourgolfingbags，andIpresumewelookedmoreliketailor’smodels，posingforthegallery，thanpeoplewhoweretakinganouting;butRiversandMissBessemerhadbeenregularlyexercising;lookedasthoughtheyhaddonetheirfifteenmilessincemorning.Theyhadtheiroldclotheson，andtheyweredustyandmuddy.
　　"YouwouldhavethoughtthatayounggirlsuchasMissBessemeris——forshe’sveryyoung——wouldhavebeenalittleembarrassedatrunningupagainstsuchaspickandspanlotaswewere.Notabitofit;didn’tloseherpoiseforamoment.Shebowedtomysisterandtome，asthoughfromthetopofadrag，byJove！andasthoughshewerefreshfromRedfernandVirot.Youknowagirlthatcanmanageherselfthatwayisathoroughbred.SheevenrememberedtocutlittleJohnnieCarterhere，becauseJohnnieforcedhimselfuponheronenightatadancewhenhewasdrunk;
　　didn’tshe，Johnnie？Johnniecameuptoherthere，outonthelinks，freshasadaisy，andputouthishand，with，’Why，howdoyoudo，MissBessemer？’and’whereverdidyoucomefrom？’and’I
　　haven’tseenyouinsolong’;andshesays，’No，notsinceourlastdance，Ibelieve，Mr.Carter，’andlookedathishandasthoughitwassomethingfunny.
　　"LittleJohnniemumbledandflushedandstammeredandbackedoff;
　　anditwaswellthathedid，becauseRivershadbeguntogetredaroundthewattles.Isaythelittlegirlisathoroughbred，andmysisterwantstogiveheradinnerassoonasshecomesout.
　　ButJohnniesaysshe’sdeclassee，somaybemysisterhadbetterthinkitover."
　　"Ididn’tsayshewasdeclassee，"exclaimedCarter."Ionlysaidshewoulddowelltobemorecareful."
　　Sargeantshiftedhiscigartotheothercornerofhismouth，oneeyeshuttoavoidthesmoke.
　　"Onemightsayasmuchoflotsofpeople，"heanswered.
　　"Idon’tlikeyourtone！"Carterflaredout.
　　"Oh，gotothedevil，Johnnie！Shallweallhaveadrink？"
　　OntheFridayeveningofthatweek，Condysethimselftohisworkathisaccustomedhour.Buthehadhadaharddayonthe"Times，"
　　Supplement，andhisbrain，likeanoverdrivenhorse，refusedtowork.Inhalfanhourhehadnotwrittenaparagraph.
　　"Ithoughtitwouldbebetter，intheend，toloafforoneevening，"heexplainedtoBlix，sometwentyminuteslater，astheysettledthemselvesinthelittledining—room."Icangoatitbetterto—morrow.Seehowyoulikethislastchapter."
　　Blixwasenthusiasticover"InDefianceofAuthority."Condyhadtoldhertheoutlineofthestory，andhadreadtohereachchapterashefinishedit.
　　"It’sthebestthingyouhaveeverdone，Condy，andyouknowit.
　　Isupposeithasfaults，butIdon’tcareanythingaboutthem.
　　It’sthestoryitselfthat’ssointeresting.Afterthatfirstchapteroftheboomrestaurantandtheexiles’club，nobodywouldwanttolaythebookdown.You’redoingthebestworkofyourlifesofar，andyousticktoit."
　　"It’sgrindingoutcopyfortheSupplementatthesametimethattakesallthestarchoutofme.You’venoideawhatitmeanstowriteallday，andthensitdownandwriteallevening."
　　"IWISHyoucouldgetoffthe’Times，’"saidBlix."You’rejustgivingthebestpartofyourlifetohackwork，andNOWit’sinterferingwithyournovel.Iknowyoucoulddobetterworkonyournovelifyoudidn’thavetoworkonthe’Times，’couldn’tyou？"
　　"Oh，ifyoucometothat，ofcourseIcould，"heanswered."Buttheywon’tgivemeavacation.Iwassoundingtheeditoronitdaybeforeyesterday.No;I’llhavetomanagesomehowtoswingthetwotogether."
　　"Well，let’snottalkshopnow.Condy.Youneedarest.Doyouwanttoplaypoker？"
　　Theyplayedforupwardofanhourthatevening，andCondy，asusual，lost.Hisill—luckwaspositivelyastonishing.DuringthelasttwomonthshehadplayedpokerwithBlixonanaverageofthreeorfoureveningsintheweek.andatthecloseofeverygameitwasBlixwhohadallthechips.