“Why, no, of course not, Adam,” she answered him, blushing prettily.
“Aren’t we betrothed?” he demanded.
“I have not said I will marry you, have I, Adam?” she said, roguishly.
“But you shall, sweetheart. I love you so much that you can’t help it! I love you so it seems as if I shall explode! I love you, dear! Do you hear me say it? I love you! I love you, Garde. You do love me, sweetheart—just a little?”
“Yes, I—love you a lit——,” Garde was saying.
“A-d-a-m R-u-s-t.——come—aboard!” came a great voice across the harbor, from the brig out in the stream.
“Beg pardon, sir, the Capting’s calling,” shouted the sailor, who had rowed ashore for Rust.
Adam waved him a dumb reply. “Then you will give me one little kiss, for good-by, sweetheart?” he begged.
“No—it’s too soon,” said Garde. “Besides——”
“But I am going away,” interrupted Adam. “And I have loved you seven years!”