“Each day, at eleven, Helena,” I concluded, “I shall meet you on the after deck, and shall try to be kind, try to be courteous——”
“Why, Harry——”
“Try to be calm, too. I want to give you time to think. And I, too, must think. For a time, I wondered what was right, in case you had really pledged yourself to another man.”
“Suppose I had?” she asked, sphinx-like.
“I will try to discover that. Not that it would make any difference in my plans.”
“You would take what was another’s?” She still gazed at me, sphinx-like.
“Yes! By the Lord, Helena, my father did, and his, and so would I! So would I, if that were you! Let him fend for himself.”
She turned from the rail, her color a little heightened, affected to yawn, stretched her arms.
We were now passing over the bar, slowly, feeling our way, our skiff alongside, and the shelter of the curving, tree-covered bayou banks now beginning to hide us from view, though the bellowing steamer below had not yet entered our bend.
“Who is that boy?” she inquired lazily.