Just then he happened to recall what his sister had said to him that morning, and, knowing Helen, he also knew that she had meant it kindly. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she had looked into his eyes, saying: “Dear brother, you wouldn’t allow yourself to care for someone of whom your mother could not be proud. This friend of yours, Muriel Storm, is a fine girl, I am sure, but she could not associate with your friends, and our mother’s heart would be broken if you really cared for her.”
Of course he and Muriel did not care for each other in the way to which Helen had referred. They were just jolly good comrades.’ Why were people always romancing? He was glad that Muriel did not fit into the scene that was being enacted in the brilliantly lighted room across the hall. He liked her best as she was.
At midnight his sister found him and her glance was reproachful at first, but when she saw how truly weary he looked she rebuked herself for having kept him up late so soon after his illness.
She remembered how solicitous Muriel had been that he should not overwork. Was she, Helen, less considerate as a sister than this island girl as a friend?
When they were again in the closed car, Marianne retired into the depth of her furs and ignored their existence, pretending that she was too weary for conversation, but Helen understood.
Marianne, she knew, wished all boys to think her the most charming girl they had ever met, and though Gene was polite, he had not been devoted.
“Poor brother,” Helen thought, as she glanced at his face, pale in spite of its recent tanning. Aloud she said: “Gene, this is the last night that I am going to drag you around to a dance. I know that you ought to just rest, if you are to go back to college next month.”
Gene said nothing, but reached for his sister’s hand and held it in a loving clasp.
CHAPTER XXI.
CHRISTMAS IN FEBRUARY.
It was the first week in February before Captain Ezra thought it wise for him to cross the turbulent waters of the bay. It was indeed necessary for him to make the voyage then, as the oil had dropped to what he called “low tide mark,” and after that the faithful keeper of the light never delayed longer than necessary before refilling the tank.