She laughed gayly. “But, Joel, you only see me once in three years. Of course I have new dresses, then. But I just couldn’t....”
She laughed again, a faint uneasiness in her laughter. She left his knee, and sat down soberly beside him. She was feeling a little crushed, smothered ... as though she were being pushed back against a wall. Joel said steadily:
“Mr. Worthen will be glad to know you go with me. And every one will be glad for you....”
She burst, abruptly, into tears. She was miserable, she told him. He was making her miserable. She hated to be bullied, and he was trying to bully her. She hated him. She wouldn’t marry him. Never. He could go off on his old ship and never come back. That was all. She would not go; and he ought not to ask her to, anyway. To prove how much she hated him, she nestled against his side, and his arm enfolded her.
Joel had not the outward seeming of a wise man; nevertheless he now said:
“The other girls will all be envying you. To be married so quickly, and carried away the very next day....” Her sobs miraculously ceased, and he smiled quietly down upon her dark head against his breast. “Every one will do things for you.... The whole town.... They will come down to see us sail away.”
He fell silent, leaving his words for her consideration. She remained very quiet against his side for a long time, breathing very softly. He thought he could almost read her thoughts....
“It will be,” he said, “like a story. Like a romance.” And the word sounded strangely on his sober lips.
But at the word, the girl sat up quickly, both hands gripping his arm. He could see her eyes dancing in the moonlight.... “Oh, Joe,” she cried, “it would really be just loads of fun. And terribly romantic.... Wonderful!” She pressed a hand to her cheek, thinking: “And I could....”
She could, she said, do thus and so....