Look out you must;
September,
Remember;
October,
All over.'
That anchors March squarely in the middle of the safe months; so we're all right, you see. No, it isn't a hurricane."
He seated himself on the deck, and, leaning against the door-jamb, braced himself to the roll. For a while they sat in silence, and watched the long rollers infold them—three great ones, then a succession of lower ones, in an ever-recurring sameness that moved the girl with a growing nervousness. At last she turned to him and said:
"I wanted to explain to you that I had no reason to be ugly this morning. But what is the use? Father would always oppose; besides, I am not sure myself. I want to be friends, nothing more."
"Well! that is a wooden tale," he said disappointedly.
"I never said anything different at any time, Tom," she protested.