'Tis the same if he is near me, 'tis the same if he is far:
His thoughts are hard an' ever hard between us, so they are.
Och anee!"
Her hands dropped from the keys and she turned slowly on the end of the seat. The dark lashes fell to her hot cheeks. He did not speak, but she felt the steady insistence of his gaze. In self-defense she looked at him.
The pallor of his face lent accent to the fire that smouldered in his eyes.
"I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Make up your mind to that, girl," he said harshly.
There was infinite pity in the look she gave him. "'There's caulder things than salt waves between us, so they are,'" she quoted.
"Not if I love you and you love me. By God, I trample down everything that comes between us."
He swung to a sitting position on the lounge. Through the steel-gray eyes in the brooding face his masterful spirit wrestled with hers. A lean-loined Samson, with broad, powerful shoulders and deep chest, he dominated his world ruthlessly. But this slim Irish girl with the young, lissom body held her own.