There was something dramatic in her declaration; her demeanor expressed the placid calm of absolute proprietorship. She worked his unwilling fingers free from the rail.
“I love you because you can forget yourself. Now don't be like all the others.”
He realized that a queer little sting of impatience was pricking him. The girl did not seem to understand what his manhood was prompting.
“You mustn't be selfish, Boyd!”
She put into words the vague thought which had been troubling him in regard to her attitude; and now that he understood what his thought had been he was incensed by what seemed his own disloyalty. And yet, the girl was asking him to make over his nature!
“I'm afraid it's all wrong. These things never seem to come out right,” he mourned.
“You are trying to turn the world upside down all at once—and all alone. Don't think so much, you solemn Yankee. Just love!”
He put his aims about her. “I'm sailing in new waters. I don't seem to know the true course or the right bearings!”
“Let's stay anchored until the fog lifts! Isn't that what sailors usually do?”
He confessed it, kissing her when she lifted her tantalizing face from his shoulder.
“Now you'll let the future alone, won't you?” she asked.
“Yes.” But even while he promised he was obliged to face that future.
Julius Marston, at the foot of the ladder, called to his daughter. “Are you up there?” he demanded, sharply.
“Yes, father.”
“Come down here.”
She gave her lover a hasty caress and obeyed.
Captain Mayo was obliged to listen. Marston, in his anger, showed no consideration for possible eavesdroppers.
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