All about them the bustle and excitement was bewildering. People pushed this way and that in their efforts to reach the gangway.
The siren sounded its last deep toned blasts of warning; the final greetings were exchanged.
Tall and handsome looking in his tourist knicker-bockers and close fitting steamer cap, Kenneth held both Helen's hands in his. Ray and Mr. Parker, under the pretence of visiting the anchor weighed, had discreetly withdrawn. François, the valet, could be seen in the distance, making signals to some one on shore. Husband and wife were standing alone behind one of the big ventilators, Helen glad that no one saw them, ashamed that anyone should detect the big tears she was unable to control. How she had dreaded this moment of actual parting, this ordeal of saying good-bye!
"You'll write every day, won't you?" she asked in choking voice.
Tenderly he drew her to him.
"Every day, sweetheart."
"And you'll come back safe to me?"
"I'll come back safe to you."
Bravely she forced back the tears that blinded her. Gently she murmured:
"I'll wait for you, Kenneth. I shall count the days, every moment, until you return. I never realized till now how much we are to each other. I'll pray for you, Kenneth; I'll pray God that He watch over and protect you."