He rose and leaned over the table toward her. The candles flickered and nearly went out. Betty sat upright in her chair. Still leaning forward, his eyes holding hers, the captain with his right hand moved the table to one side. There was nothing between them now, and Chanler started forward, but I caught him by the arm.
“Wait!” I whispered. For in the candle-gleam I had seen a new look on Betty’s face. “Only wait!”
Brack was bending over her.
“Stand up!” he commanded, and she stood up in all the litheness of her slim young womanhood.
“Come to me.”
She did not move.
“Come. I am your Man. You are—you are——”
His speech suddenly collapsed. Betty was smiling. The smile broadened. There was a moment of struggle and then she threw back her head and the cabin rang with peal after peal of lark-like laughter.
“Oh, Captain Brack!” she stammered, struggling to control herself. “That’s too—too stagy! Too, too melodramatic!”
Again and again her merriment broke out, welling in gusts from compressed lips, like merry music that would not be suppressed.