“Oh, you wouldn't do that, Annie?”
“Yes, I would. I will now. Ready about!” The Captain came rapidly up into the wind, but stopped there with sail flapping; for Dick held the sheet, and his hand had imprisoned hers on the tiller.
“Now, Dick—Dick—”
“Wait a minute. Don't be angry with me when I've risked the schooner and everybody aboard her just so's to get down here on your birthday. Promise me you 'll hold her in the wind while I get you your present.”
She hesitated, and looked out toward the horizon.
“Promise me that, Annie, and I 'll let go your hand.”
“You—you've forgotten—what you promised—”
“I know, I said I'd never take hold of your hand again until you put it in mine—didn't I?”
She nodded, still looking away.
“And I've broken the promise. Do you know why, Annie? It's because when you look at me the way you do sometimes, I could break every promise I've ever made—and every law of Congress if I thought it would just keep you looking at me.”