“A confession? You? Nonsense!”
“I can’t get rid of a horrible thought. I was wondering if this will last.”
“Our love? Don’t be afraid that it will fade ... I mean ... why, it’s so vast, it’s bound to last ... that is to say, of course it will.”
She traced a pattern on the deck with her shoe.
“I’m afraid of myself. You see, once before—and it was not so very long ago,—I thought I had met my ideal, but....”
Sam laughed heartily.
“Are you worrying about that absurd business of poor old Eustace Hignett?”
She started violently.
“You know!”
“Of course! He told me himself.”