In Which Is Philosophy; Which, However, Should Not Be Skipped

But now, as I saw myself once more approaching this pleasant spot so
well known to me, I felt little of the old thrill of eagerness come
over me. True, Edouard would be there, and the dogs, and the birds,
and the horses, and the quiet welcome. True, also, I could, either in
truth or by evasion, establish a pleasant and conventional footing for
all my party--it would be easy to explain so natural and pleasant an
incident as a visit during a yacht cruise, and to laugh at all that
silly newspaper sensation which by now must fully have blown over.
True, Monsieur Edouard would be charmed to meet the woman whose
influence on my life he knew so well. Yes, I could tell him
everything easily, nicely, except the truth; which was, that I was
bringing to another man's arms the woman whom he knew I loved. No, the
blue loom of Manning's Island gave me no joy now. I wished it three
thousand miles away instead of thirty. I wished that almost anything
might prevent my arrival--accident, delay.

And then, in the most natural way in the world, there were both!
Without much warning, the pulse of our engine slackened, the throb of
our single screw slowed down and ceased. Williams stuck his head up
out of his engine-room and shouted something to Peterson, who
methodically drew out his pipe and made ready for a smoke.

"It's no use going any farther," explained Williams when I came up.
"That intake's gone wrong again, and she's got sand all through her.
It's a crime to see her cut herself all to pieces this way. We've just
got to stop and clean her up, that's all, and fix the job right--ought
to have done it back there before we started in."