“That didn’t matter. She smiled her thanks, when I drew away a rope, and I’d never got so sweet and gracious a look. After that there were calm evenings when the Empress swung gently over the smooth heave and the girl left her friends and walked up and down the deck with me. I knew I was a presumptuous fool, but as soon as my watch was over I used to wait with an anxious heart, hoping that she might come.”
“And sometimes she didn’t.”
“Those were black nights,” said Jimmy. “While I waited I tried to think it would be better if I saw no more of her. But I knew all the time that I couldn’t take that prudent course.” He paused with an appealing gesture. “Ruth, haven’t I said enough?”
“Not quite. Did you think, when you went to find the wreck, that your success would make me think of you with more favor?”
“If the wreck had been full of gold, it would not have made me your equal; but I knew what your friends would think. It would have been insufferable that you should have had to apologize to them for me.”
Ruth gave him a smile that sent a thrill through him.
“Dear,” he said suddenly, “I want you—that’s all in the world that matters.”
She yielded shyly when he gathered her to him; and the little gilt clock on the mantel, with its poised Cupid, seemed to tick exultantly in the silence that followed.
A half-hour had passed when they heard footsteps in the hall, and Osborne came in. He glanced at them sharply, and Jimmy’s triumphant air and Ruth’s blush confirmed his suspicions.
“Ah!” he said. “I imagine you have something to tell me?”