* * * * *
Suddenly she drew herself away, a cloud on her face.
"Darling," she said, "I've a confession to make."
"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?"