"Halcro!" she exclaimed, holding out her two sunburnt hands in greeting.
"Thora!" I murmured, taking her hands in mine.
"You have expected me, then?" she said, as I drew her gently to the rail to let the sailors pass.
We stood there, looking into each other's face, in which the four years that had passed since our last meeting had left their maturing touch.
"I have been expecting you these two months past," I said, looking wistfully over the sea. "There has never come a ship from Denmark but I have boarded her, hoping to see you."
"Well, you see me at last, and am I altered?"
"You are only more beautiful, Thora, more womanly. And so you are coming back to Pomona to visit us again?"
"No, not to visit you, Halcro. I am homeward bound this time. I am never going to leave old Orkney again. My schooling is over, and there is no one left in Copenhagen now to keep me there. I am going to settle down in some cottage near our dear sea cliffs, where I can see the ships passing from my garden seat and dream my life away in pleasant solitude."
"In solitude!" I stammered; then shyly asked:
"Did you not get my last letter, Thora?"