From a folding chair on the after deck of the Haida Rod looked back at Hawk's Nest. The cruiser's screw churned up bubbles and foam astern. Dent Island and the gray stone house with its red roof, the pale green of grass and the duskier hue of the woods behind were receding fast. They vanished altogether as they rounded the Gillard light and stood away south.
"I was born there," Rod said simply. "I never went home but I was glad to be there. I never left it before without being sorry to go."
"Aren't you sorry now?" Mary asked.
"No. Are you?"
"No," she said frankly. "It was lovely—it is lovely. Everybody was good to me. I was quite happy there until—"
"Precisely. It's Grove's bailiwick when it comes to a show-down. That being so, it's no place for us. I'm glad to be on the wing. I'd rather paddle my own canoe than be a guest on somebody's ship. It won't perhaps be quite so pleasant for you, old thing."
"The only unpleasantness I dread," Mary rejoined, "is your beginning to wonder if it was worth while, after all. A lot of people aren't going to be able to see me with a microscope, Rod. You don't seem to get that yet. I can't play the game the way they do. They're so chesty and cocksure. All their lives they've lived well, dressed well, gone where they chose with perfect assurance, accepted by their equals and deferred to by their inferiors. They have me at a disadvantage. I don't speak their favorite shibboleths, or see life from the same angle. I'm not sure," she hesitated wistfully, "that I will ever want to. But it would be dreadful if you found that you were being severely penalized for marrying out of your class, as they probably put it. That's the only thing I have any reason to dread. All the other possibilities," she made a quick inclusive gesture, "being poor; making the most of a little, longing for the unattainable, a great effort for a few simple pleasures—I know them all. They aren't so very terrible. They don't frighten me. But for you, because of me, to cut loose from everything and every one that has made up your life and then begin to chafe under it—that does."
Rod glanced over his shoulder. The deck was empty. He put one arm around her, shook her gently.
"I'll pull some caveman stuff on you," he threatened tenderly, "if I ever hear you talk like that again. In the first place, you mean more to me than anything or anybody. In the second place, nobody is going to penalize me. They won't try. There's no real reason they should. You'll see. While the governor is horribly annoyed about what he calls a disgraceful quarrel, he doesn't even dream of blaming you. He lays it to his sons' fiery tempers and shameful lack of self-control. He'll cool off. And having known you, he'd never dream of following Grove's lead. I know him. He's fair. If we should happen to live in Vancouver this winter, and we care to go out, you'll see that most of these high-flying friends of Grove's will conveniently forget, and be very nice to us—because we are what we are. There are enough people of some consequence to accept us as such and the rest will follow suit. Oh, I know them. They're just like sheep. That's a side issue. It can't make any difference to us."
Mary snuggled her hand in his.