"Nothing just now," I said. "I was wondering what Rufus and I were going to do to-morrow."
"You must do that mysterious work you were talking about. You haven't begun it yet; and it's all my fault."
"But I can't work when I feel lonely," I objected.
"Two days ago," she said, "you told me a desert island was the only place you could write in."
"Yes," I said; "but I was younger then, and not so experienced."
She laughed—that low, sweet laugh of hers that always reminded me of deep water. Then she leaned forward again, and a sudden flicker of the fire fit up her eyes and hair, and showed me the soft curve of her lips. She looked so utterly adorable that for a moment I as nearly as possible forgot the rules. It was only with a big effort that I crushed back a sudden wild impulse to take her in my arms.
As it was I jumped up, just a little abruptly.
"Astarte," I said, "it's time you went to bed. All good sailors turn in early the night before a voyage."
She looked up at me for a second with a grave, almost a wistful expression. Then she held out her hand.
"You're right, Stephen," she said. "Good-night."