He nodded.
“I don’t believe it.”
His eyes shone. “What a loyal little bride? But—I taxed him with it. And—that was the word he used....”
She was so angry that she beat upon Mark’s great breast with her tiny fists. “It’s not true! It’s not true!” she cried. “You know....”
Abruptly, Mark took fire. She was swept in his arms, clipped there, half-lifted from the deck to meet his lips that dipped to hers. She was like nothing in his grasp; she could not stir.... And from his lips, and circling arms, and great body the hot fire of the man flung through her.... She fought him.... But even in that terrific moment she knew that Joel had never swept or whelmed her so....
She twisted her face away.... And thus, from the shadow where they stood, she saw Joel. He was at the top of the cabin companion, looking toward them, his face illumined by the light from below. And she watched for an instant, frozen with terror, expecting him to leap toward them and plunge at Mark and buffet him....
Joel stood for an instant, unstirring. Then he turned, very quietly, and went down stairs again into the cabin....
She thought, sickly, that he had shirked; he had seen, and held his hand....
What was it Mark had said? Afraid....
Mark had not seen Joel. He kissed her again. Then she twisted away from him, and fled below.