CHAPTER XVIII.
IN THE DEPTHS OF WOE.
Collin stood staring at Trudy. She had not loosened her clinching hold for an instant, and, before he had realized it, the last warning had been shouted, the plank had been withdrawn, and the Sandy Hook was moving off. And he stood on the pier.
Many emotions were rife in his good-looking, boyish face, but anger was chief among them.
"Trudy," he said, sharply, "what are you doing? What have you done?"
He looked after the moving boat.
Trudy tried to stop her shower of tears, and Collin could but look at her. It was a rare thing to see Trudy cry, and it was on his account she was crying.
"Well, what's the matter?" he demanded, gruffly enough. "You've got what you wanted, haven't you? What are you going to do now? What are you going to do with me? Tell me that!"
With a reckless laugh, Collin turned into the freight-office and threw himself down on a box in an unnoticed corner. And Trudy followed her prisoner.
"I saw you from up the beach, Collin," she said, "and I couldn't let you run away! How could I? That would have been the worst! How could you have wanted to, Collin?"