She opened the cabin door to come out; she saw Black Pawl at the table, his head dropped on his hands.
She was, at first, a little awed by this sight of a strong man crushed. Then the woman in her cried out with soft compassion; and she crossed quickly and stood beside him and touched his head.
“It’s all right,” she told him softly. “It’s all right, Cap’n Pawl.”
She could think of nothing else to say.
His shoulders shook with a convulsive tremor; and she knew that he was crying, crying like a child, with his head upon his arms. A woman’s tears confuse a man; but a man’s tears frighten and appal a woman. Ruth was shaken by the knowledge that Black Pawl was sobbing; she did not know what to do. She could only plead: “Please! Please don’t! It’s all right, truly.”
With a curious abruptness he was calm. He lifted his head and looked up at her. His face was streaked with tears; and yet it was strangely serene. It was haggard, and yet it was at peace. There was none of the old mockery in his eyes, and none of the evil. It was as though his tears had washed him clean. He looked up at her; and she smiled at him, hand on his hand, and pleaded:
“Don’t be unhappy!”
He was studying her countenance, line by line. And after a moment, he said in a quiet deep voice that was unlike him:
“Will you sit down? Across the table there? I want to talk with you.”
She said, “Of course,” and she crossed and sat down facing him. Again, for a little, he did not speak. Then he held out his hand.