"No," he said slowly, "I won't, unless—unless he asks me to."
"Oh!" she breathed, "thank you." She placed her icy-cold hand on his for a second.
"You're freezing!" he exclaimed suddenly. "You'll be making yourself sick. You must get inside!"
"I'll go to the lounging cabin in mid-deck. The forecastle is so—so lonesome," she stammered. "If you need me, you'll find me there."
Feeling her way along the rail, she disappeared into the darkness.
At almost the same moment there came the bellowing sound of a voice that could be heard above the roar of the storm:
"Curlie! Curlie! Come here! Something coming in. Can't make it out!"
It was Joe Marion. Stumbling aft, now banging his feet down hard and now treading on empty air, Curlie made his way to the radiophone cabin.