“Nay.” The word broke from her lips like a sob, and she ran over to the rope ladder.
“If you fail——” Pet’s voice grew threatening.
Anny’s voice trembled.
“I will not fail,” she said, and then added beneath her breath, “Oh, Hal, what will I say to you?”
As she ran back to the Ship across the fast-darkening saltings Anny began to realize the situation a little more clearly. She had bound herself to marry Dick on the morrow; that was terrible enough in itself, but after she was married, what then? The girl stopped in her stride to think on it.
“After I am wed I can go back to the Ship,” she said, half aloud, “but why be wed first? Oh! whatever will I do?”
Two weeks ago she would have gone to Hal naturally. Now she swallowed uneasily in her throat.
Hal had hardly spoken to her of late; he had grown strangely sullen and taciturn, and spent all his spare time in a fishing-boat with Joe Pullen. She knew that they took the fish they caught up the Colne and sold it in the little inland villages. She had tried to speak to him several times, but he had always looked at her so fiercely that she had abandoned the attempt.
Alone on the wild, wind-swept marshes, the girl sank down on her knees on the damp spiky grass and covered her face with her hands. She remained quite still for several seconds and then sprang up with a little cry. Hastily she passed her hands over her shining plaits as though to make sure that they were still there, and examined her nails anxiously. Then she sighed with relief and with one fearful backward glance at the Pet, set off to the Ship, her skirts flying out behind her as she ran.