"Miss Ballard," he said, softly,—"Miss Cleo—I do not disagree with you, after all, as you think. It is true, as you say—there should be no marriage without love."
"And yet you are willing to follow the ancient customs of your country," she said, half-pettishly—almost scornfully.
"I did not say that," he said, smiling.
"Yes, but you make one believe it," she said.
"I did not mean to. I wanted only that you should believe that it might be so for my father's sake, if—if the one I did love was—impossible to me." There was a piercing passion in his voice that she had not thought him capable of.
One of those inexplicable, sudden waves of gentleness and tenderness that sometimes sweep over a woman, came over her. She turned and faced Takashima with a look on her face that would have made the coldest lover's heart throb with delight and hope.
"You must be always sure—always sure she is—she is impossible."
She was appalled at her own words as soon as they were uttered.
The Japanese had taken a step nearer to her. He half held his hands out.
"I am going below," she said, with sudden fright, "I—I—indeed, I don't know what I'm talking about."