"I have used your own words and none of mine," she said, when she had finished. "Shall I read them over to you?"
"No." He took the letter, folded it, and placed it in the envelope she handed him. "Why didn't you put it into better words?" he asked.
"Because I could not. Trust a woman to know what a woman likes. If I were this—this Harriet."—Her voice faltered and came to a halt.
"Yes?" He waited for her to continue.
"Why, then, that letter would make me a proud woman."
"Though it came from a common sailor?"
"She would not think first of that. She would be proud to be so loved."
"Thank you," said he slowly, and, drawing a shilling from his pocket, laid it on the desk. "Good-night and good-bye, Miss Marvin."
He moved to the window and flung up the sash. Seated astride the ledge, he looked back at her with a smile which seemed to say, "At last we are friends!" The next moment he had reached out a hand, caught hold of the One-and-All's forestay, and swung himself out into the darkness.
Hester, standing alone in the little office, heard a soft sliding sound which puzzled her, followed by the light thud of his feet as he dropped upon deck. She leaned out for a moment before closing the window. All was silent below, save for the lap of the tide between the schooner and the quay-wall.