“Yes.”
“I promise—so long as he keeps his. But if he touches you—well, God help him!”
“And me! Oh, I don’t mean him. It is you that I am afraid of. You’re so terribly strong—and—and so heady. I can never forget how you went into that mob of quarrelling troopers. But 137 you were an officer there; your uniform doesn’t count here. If only you and your father stood together!”
“We do so far as you are concerned. Never doubt that. Otherwise, though, it’s hopeless. What are you going to demand of him—supposing we come through safely?”
“That’s my secret. Let’s go on deck.”
“It’s raining hard, and there’ll be a good deal of pitching shortly. Better turn in. You’ve been through enough to send the average woman into hysterics.”
“It won’t be possible to sleep.”
“I grant that, but I’d rather you would go at once to your cabin.”
“I wonder if you will understand. I’m not really afraid. I know I ought to be, but I’m not. All my life has been a series of humdrum—and here is adventure, stupendous adventure!” She rose abruptly, holding out her arms dramatically toward space. “All my life I have lived in a shell, and chance has cracked it. If only you knew how wonderfully free I feel at this moment! I want to go on deck, to feel the wind and the rain in my face!”
“Go to bed,” he said, prosaically.