“To begin with, the thing has an airy lightness that ought to suit you. Then you took care of me and we were very good friends when I was ill. I’d like to feel I’d given you something that might remind you of this. Besides, you see, I’m going away——”
“But you are coming back.”
“Yes; but things might happen in the meantime.”
“What kind of things?” Clare asked in vague alarm.
“I don’t know,” Dick said awkwardly. “Still, disturbing things do happen. Anyhow won’t you take the clasp?”
Clare stood irresolute with the case in her hand. It was strange, and to some extent embarrassing that Dick should insist upon making her the present. He had humiliated her and it was impossible that she could marry him, but there was an appeal in his eyes that was hard to deny. Besides, the clasp was beautiful and he had shown nice taste in choosing it for her.
“Very well,” she said gently. “I will keep it and wear it now and then.”
Dick made a sign of gratitude and they went on, but Clare stopped at the next corner and held out her hand.
“I must not take you any farther,” she said firmly. “I wish you a good voyage.”
She went into a shop and Dick turned back to the harbor where he boarded the launch. The boat was loaded deep with coal, the fireman was busy, and soon after the provisions Dick had bought arrived, steam was up. He took the helm, the engine began to throb, and they glided through the cool shadow along the mole. When they met the smooth swell at the harbor mouth the sea blazed with reflected light, and Dick was glad to fix his eyes upon the little compass in the shade of the awning astern. The boat lurched away across the long undulations, with the foam curling up about her bow and rising aft in a white following wave.