With that question he uncovered an unsuspected depth to his feelings. It was a dark, dull day. The waves rolled and fell back, sometimes the wind seeming the stronger and then the current asserting its weight. With the wind’s help over the stern, Terabon swiftly passed the caving bend and landed in the lee above the young woman’s boat. 132
He carried some things he had bought for her into the kitchen and they sat in the cabin to read newspapers and magazines which he had obtained.
“I heard some news, too,” he told her.
“Yes? What news?”
“The fish-dock man at New Madrid told me to tell the people along that a detective has gone on down, looking for a woman.”
“A detective looking for a woman?” she repeated.
“A man the name of Carline––”
“Oh!” she shrugged her shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me!”
He flushed. Almost an hour had elapsed since he had returned. He had found it difficult to mention the subject.
“I did not tell you either,” he apologized, “that I happened to meet Mr. Carline up at Island No. 8, when I had no idea the good fortune would come to me of meeting you, whose—whose pictures he showed me. I could not—I saw––There was––”