"Knowing what it meant to me—what it meant to both of us, David."
"So you weren't offended, that night?"
"I loved you even then, David. I think I must have loved you from that first day at Nokomis. Do you remember…?"
His eyes widened, perplexed, staring into her grave, dear eyes. "Then why did you pretend—?"
With the low, caressing laugh of a happy child, the girl knelt by the side of his berth, and laid her cheek against his own. "Oh, David, my David! When do you expect to understand the heart of a woman, dear heart of mine?"
CHAPTER XXI
THE FINAL INCARNATION
About five o'clock of an evening in April the Cunarder Caronia, four hours out from Queenstown and buckling down to a night's hard work against the northwesterly gale, shipped a sea. It was not much of a sea—merely a playful slap of a wave that broke against the staunch black side and glanced upward in a shower of spray, spattering liberally a solitary passenger who had been showing enough interest in the weather to remain on deck until that particular moment. Apparently undisconcerted by the misadventure, he shook himself and laughed a sober, contented laugh, found a handkerchief and mopped his face with it, then, with a final approving survey of the lowering and belligerent canopy of wind-cloud that overhung the tortured ocean, permitted himself to be blown aft to the door of the first-cabin smoking-room. Opening this by main strength, he entered. The gale saved him the bother of closing it.
Removing his rain-coat and cap and depositing them on a convenient chair, he glanced round the room and discovered that he shared it with a single passenger, who was placidly exhausting the virtues of an excellent cigarette. Upon this gentleman the newcomer bent a regard steadfast and questioning, but after returning it casually the smoker paid him no further attention. Dissatisfied, the other moved toward him, and the deck slanted suddenly and obligingly the better to accelerate his progress, so that he brought up with a lurch in the seat next the smoker. The latter raised the eyebrows of surprise and hoped that the gentleman had not hurt himself.
"I didn't, thank you, Mr. David Amber."