They were in the sea-haunted parlour. After a while he took up the pink conch-shell and fingered it lovingly. Then, with a laugh, he put it to her ear.
“What does it say?”
She listened a while, handed him back the shell and looking up at him out of her dark eyes, laughed the laugh of deep happiness.
“I’ll go with you, dear—to any South Sea Island you like.”
“Will you?” he cried. “We’ll go. And I’ll write a novel full of the beauty of God’s Universe and you.”
Myra came in to lay the luncheon table. Olivia leaped up and threw her arms around the thin shoulders.
“Myra dear, you’ll have to pack up quick. We’re going to Honolulu to-morrow.”
“You must make it the day after,” said Myra. “The laundry doesn’t come till to-morrow night.”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER NOTES