permit it to escape her lips. She began to build up her hair clumsily, because her hands trembled. Adventure! She thrilled! She had read somewhere that after seven thousand years of tortuous windings human beings had formed about themselves a thin shell which they called civilization. And always someone was breaking through and retracing those seven thousand years. Here was an example in Cunningham. Only a single step was necessary. It took seven thousand years to 132 build your shell, and only a minute to destroy it. There was something fascinating in the thought. A reckless spirit pervaded Jane, a longing to burst through this shell of hers and ride the thunderbolt. Monotony—that had been her portion, and only her dreams had kept her from withering. From the house to the hospital and back home again, days, weeks, years. She had begun to hate white; her soul thirsted for colour, movement, thrill. The call that had been walled in, suppressed, broke through. Piracy on high seas, and Jane Norman in the cast! 132 She was not in the least afraid of the whimsical rogue opposite. He was more like an uninvited dinner guest. Perhaps this lack of fear had its origin in the oily smoothness by which the yacht had changed hands. Beyond the subjugation of Dodge, there had not been a ripple of commotion. It was too early to touch the undercurrents. All this lulled and deceived her. Piracy? Where were the cutlasses, the fierce moustaches, the red bandannas, the rattle of dice, and the drunken songs?—the piracy of tradition? If she had any fear at all it was for the man at her left—Denny—who might run amuck on her account and spoil everything. All her life she would hear the father’s voice—“The jam and the cheese, Togo.” What men, all three of them! 133 133 Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up. “Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly.” Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier’s sleeve. “Please!” “For your sake, then. But it’s tough medicine for me to swallow.” “To be sure it is,” agreed the rogue. “Look upon me as a supercargo for the next ten days. You’ll see me only at lunch and dinner. I’ve a lot of work to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine, Cleigh, so don’t waste any time on him. Hope you’re a good
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