“You will be careful, Morgan,” I heard her say, as a brief lull came.
Her trembling hand was on my arm, her eyes looked into mine, and if I had died for it the next moment, I could not have refused the opportunity. Love laughs at storm and wreck, yes, often at grim death itself.
So I snatched her to me—whether she resisted or not I can hardly say, for I did not notice. I rained kisses upon her face, her hair, her lips, and then releasing her sprang away.
When I glanced back I saw her standing there holding on to the table and looking after me with an expression I could never forget.
As I passed the partly open door of Thorpe’s stateroom I believed it my duty to say at least a few reassuring words, for they evidently expected each minute to be their last, and looked to see the cruel sea bursting in upon them, eager for its victims.
Diana was about exhausted, and so I found a chance to shout what had happened, and how much of a chance we had.
Heaven knew it was slender enough in my mind, but for a little deceit, a little of cheerfulness in a good cause, I might be forgiven.
Then I made for the deck.
It was a dreadful sight that met my eyes as I looked forth.
The night was not inky dark, as I had expected; even stars were to be seen overhead when the storm-racked clouds parted here and there.