"I've brought him back, Stara, what's left of him, a shark tried to get the rest, but I fought him and won."
"God bless you, Hector. I—I——" and Stara burst out crying, whereupon the cheering was renewed, and Graeme, with exultation in his heart, went below.
* * * * *
"Can't—can't you forget it, Hector, it was wrung from me, is it fair to take advantage of a moment of weakness?"
Stara's form drooped before him, her whole attitude spoke defeat. Alone on the darkened decks the two were standing; eight bells had just clanged through the stillness.
Hector looked at her, his eyes glowing into hers, drew nearer and then suddenly bent and kissed her. Maddened at the touch of those soft lips, he caught her to him and repeated the offence a dozen times, Stara resting passive in his arms.
"Darling, why struggle any longer?" he whispered. "We love each other; it's no use fighting, Stara. Oh, my love my love;" and then stopped confounded, for the girl had done the best thing she could, and was sobbing violently on his shoulder.
At the sight, that which men call the better mood came upon Hector, passion yielding for the moment to tenderness, its child.
He laid his hand on the bowed head and stroked her hair.
"Stara, dearest, listen. It's true I love you, and you—it's no use denying it now—love me; but there's no harm in that. I won't hurt you, dear. You're safe with me. We don't injure that which we love, Stara."