Nevertheless she was afflicted with a sense of penitence in spite of her sophistry, and when, after a long conversation with the captain, her husband came back to her and bent over her, she put up her arms and drew his face down to hers, giving him the first voluntary caress which she had bestowed upon him since the hour of her surrender upon the Luneta.
“Have you thought me a selfish, ungrateful wretch?” she asked him.
“Never! But I have worried a little. There’s no getting around it—you are daffy about some things, Charlotte.”
“Daffy is such a beautiful word. It’s so civil. I’ll adopt it. You are not daffy about anything but me, are you, Martin?”
“Kingsnorth says I’m daffy about anything that I really like.”
“Tell me about Mr. Kingsnorth—all about him. Analyze him for me.”
“I can’t do that sort of thing. Besides, I want you to form your own impressions. You will see him in thirty-six hours.”
“So soon as that.” She drew a long breath, and fell silent.
“The captain says he is going out at dawn. We ought to make Cuyo by five to-morrow afternoon, and if Mac’s there with the launch, as he surely will be, we’ll get our freight transhipped and make the run over to-morrow night. That will bring us home by dawn the day after to-morrow. Home,” he repeated softly. “I’ve dreamed many dreams in my life and some of them have come true, but I don’t think anything stranger could have happened to me than taking my wife home to an uninhabited island in the Pacific.”
“Nothing stranger could have happened to you than finding yourself married at all. Isn’t that it?”