TO-MORROW
Page: 21

"by the London train--see? Ough! I hate being
shut up in a train. I don't mind a house so
much."

"Ah," she said; "that's lucky."

"Because in a house you can at any time open
the blamed door and walk away straight before
you."

"And never come back?"

"Not for sixteen years at least," he laughed.
"To a rabbit hutch, and get a confounded old
shovel . . ."

"A ship is not so very big," she taunted.

"No, but the sea is great."

She dropped her head, and as if her ears had
been opened to the voices of the world, she heard,
beyond the rampart of sea-wall, the swell of yester-
day's gale breaking on the beach with monotonous
and solemn vibrations, as if all the earth had been
a tolling bell.

"And then, why, a ship's a ship. You love her
and leave her; and a voyage isn't a marriage." He
quoted the sailor's saying lightly.

"It is not a marriage," she whispered.

"I never took a false name, and I've never yet
told a lie to a woman. What lie? Why, THE lie--.
Take me or leave me, I say: and if you take me,
then it is . . ." He hummed a snatch very low,
leaning against the wall.

Oh, ho, ho Rio!

And fare thee well,

My bonnie young girl,

We're bound to Rio Grande

"Capstan song," he explained. Her teeth chat-
tered.

"You are cold," he said. "Here's that affair
of yours I picked up." She felt his hands about
her, wrapping her closely. "Hold the ends to-
gether in front," he commanded.

"What did you come here for?" she asked, re-
pressing a shudder.

"Five quid," he answered, promptly. "We let
our spree go on a little too long and got hard up."

"You've been drinking?" she said.

"Blind three days; on purpose. I am not given
that way--don't you think. There's nothing and
nobody that can get over me unless I like. I can
be as steady as a rock. My chum sees the paper
this morning, and says he to me: 'Go on, Harry:
loving parent. That's five quid sure.' So we
scraped all our pockets for the fare. Devil of a
lark!"

"You have a hard heart, I am afraid," she
sighed.