“You know I am.” Marjorie attempted to look into his face with her old-time frank smile. She smiled, but the smile was one of shyness. Her brown eyes rested on Hal only an instant. The rose deepened in her cheeks. Hal looked at her, and wondered.
CHAPTER XXVII.
ROMANCE
“The magic of yon sailing moon
Lures my poor heartstrings out of me;
God’s moonshine whitens the lagoon:
The earth’s a silver mystery.”
“Why, Hal, I didn’t know you knew that poem!” Marjorie stood beside Hal at the top of the veranda steps bathed in the white moonlight. Looking at her, Hal had quoted the verse of old Irish poetry. “Leila must have taught you that.” She smiled, but there was a tiny ache in her heart.
“You taught me that. You recited it one night when we were down on the beach. That was last summer. It seems longer ago.”
“So I did. I had forgotten.” For some unknown reason Marjorie felt lighter of heart. The tiny pain was gone.