"Come in, Peggy, and I'll read aloud," was Monty's cheerful greeting as he stood before her.
"No, I must go," said Peggy, confusedly. "I thought you might be nervous about the storm—and—"
"And you came to let me out?" Monty had never been so happy.
"Yes, and I don't care what the others say. I thought you were suffering—" But at that moment the boat gave a lurch which threw her across the threshold into Monty's arms. They crashed against the wall, and he held her a moment and forgot the storm. When she drew away from him she showed him the open door and freedom. She could not speak.
"Where are the others?" he asked, bracing himself in the doorway.
"Oh, Monty," she cried, "we must not go to them. They will think me a traitor."
"Why were you a traitor, Peggy?" he demanded, turning toward her suddenly.
"Oh—oh, because it seemed so cruel to keep you locked up through the storm," she answered, blushing.
"And there was no other reason?" he persisted.
"Don't, please don't!" she cried piteously, and he misunderstood her emotion. It was clear that she was merely sorry for him.