"I would have come," she said, in a firmer voice, "but I did not—"
I had my arms around her now, and for a moment she lay unresisting, her face close to mine; but the next moment she struggled free.
"The girl that you loved," she said softly, accenting the last word.
"And love now," I rejoined, seizing her again. Then I flung her from me and bolted into my room, on the port side of the passage.
The captain had appeared in the dining-room, and seven bells—breakfast time—rang on deck. When she reached the deck I went in to my breakfast.
That evening, in the last dog-watch, Grace came to me at the weather-mizzen rigging.
"I have questioned him, Jack, and at last he admitted it," she said. "He is a nervous wreck, has been so for a year, and now I know why. Your term was coming to an end and for fear of you he has dragged me all over Europe and the Orient. He had you watched and knew by cable that you had shipped for Hongkong, but did not imagine that you would join this ship, which he found here on our arrival. He did not expect you here for a month."
"We made a fast passage out," I answered. "But what about him? What is to be done with him? Is he still a pyromaniac?"
"I do not know. It is congenital, and may break out at any time. But at any rate, I am through with him. He has forfeited all my regard. When we get home I shall remain there."
"And I suppose you do not want the captain informed of his weakness for fire?"