Chapter 16 - Page 2

him more and more impossible. He
had not yet reached the point of facing a definite separation;
but whenever his thoughts travelled back over their past life he
recoiled from any attempt to return to it. As long as this
state of mind continued there seemed nothing to add to the
letter he had already written, except indeed the statement that
he was cruising with the Hickses. And he saw no pressing reason
for communicating that.

To the Hickses he had given no hint of his situation. When
Coral Hicks, a fortnight earlier, had picked him up in the
broiling streets of Genoa, and carried him off to the Ibis, he
had thought only of a cool dinner and perhaps a moonlight sail.
Then, in reply to their friendly urging, he had confessed that
he had not been well--had indeed gone off hurriedly for a few
days' change of air--and that left him without defence against
the immediate proposal that he should take his change of air on
the Ibis. They were just off to Corsica and Sardinia, and from
there to Sicily: he could rejoin the railway at Naples, and be
back at Venice in ten days.

Ten days of respite--the temptation was irresistible. And he
really liked the kind uncomplicated Hickses. A wholesome
honesty and simplicity breathed through all their opulence, as
if the rich trappings of their present life still exhaled the
fragrance of their native prairies. The mere fact of being with
such people was like a purifying bath. When the yacht touched
at Naples he agreed since they were so awfully kind--to go on to
Sicily. And when the chief steward, going ashore at Naples for
the last time before they got up steam, said: "Any letters for
the post, sir?" he answered, as he had answered at each previous
halt: "No, thank you: none."

Now they were heading for Rhodes and Crete--Crete, where he had
never been, where he had so often longed to go. In spite of the
lateness of the season the weather was still miraculously fine:
the short waves danced ahead under a sky without a cloud, and
the strong bows of the Ibis hardly swayed as she flew forward
over the flying crests.

Only his hosts and their daughter were on the yacht-of course
with Eldorada Tooker and Mr. Beck in attendance. An eminent
archaeologist, who was to have joined them at Naples, had
telegraphed an excuse at the last moment; and Nick noticed that,
while Mrs. Hicks was perpetually apologizing for the great man's
absence, Coral merely smiled and said nothing.

As a matter of fact, Mr. and Mrs. Hicks were never as pleasant
as when one had them to one's self. In company, Mr. Hicks ran
the risk of appearing over-hospitable, and Mrs. Hicks confused
dates and names in the desire to embrace all culture in her
conversation. But