Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-01-06

| Reas eyes were on her sewing.
| There's fog maxim in tonight" Her
mother pulled back the starched edge
of the white muslin curtain. Looks
thick already"
"Does it?' Rea looked up eagerly,
and her eyes followed out to the purple
sea distance. A faint glow of sunset
pink, tinged with gray, was drifting
across the sky. A tug with two barges
was coming around the point to drop
anchor and wait for clear weather.
That's the Neptune" murmured
Rea. "She was in two weeks ago, bound
for New York"
"Rea." protested her mother. your
foot is on your sewing"
Slowly Rea stopped down and picked
up the white material.
THE mails in by now" she said,
with a questioning look at her mother
You'll be home before the fog comes
In, won't you?" she faltered enxiously.
But Rea was gone before the question
was ended out the back door and
| swishing through the lilac hedge toward
the dunes that stretched out beyond
f, the uneven little clump of New Eng
land hills.
Two days more. Rea beat at The
bushes with her fist in an Intellectual
|
have her little freedom. A dutiful wife
The fog was closing In and the muffied
grayness pressed damply against her
hot cheeks. Out beyond that grayness
there was world. Rangoon, Singapore,
Cathay, Cartagena. Rich, sweet words
to roll on the tongue. Crooked streets,
dark faces, white sands. with a salty
wind blowing the fronds of tall palms.
A strong, true ship that could make
easily through heavy weather. Nuddled
against a piece of ragged driftwood,
Rea tried to shut such things away.
~
THE click-clack of wood against wood
l. reused her. Familiar sound of oars
in thole pins. Sc listened and the sound
drew close In. She crouched closer to
the wreckage and heard boat bottom
grating on the sand. The sharp bow of
a blue dory nosed up on the beach.
Rea's eyes rounded as she watched. A
man jumped from the little boat. But
such q mani A tall Viking man. Hair
like new yellow rope, sun gold skin.
He was bending over and with one
hand hauling the dory up above tide
mark AS he swung around he faced
Rea, and horror leaped into her eyes.
A flaming torn scar puckered his cheek
and one bare arm showed the same
ugly mark, as though a fiery serpent
had wound around his body. The hor-
ror turned at once to pity, yet not
too quickly for the man to see the hor-
hor. He too started, and his mouth
drew into sharp line. Eyes turned
8 stormy gray He laughed. A harsh
sound that silenced the words of Rea's
tongue. His footsteps crunched into the
sand and his figure blended into the
gray before Rea gathered courage
enough to run after him.
please, won't you--won't you wait
for me?" she begged.
He faced her squarely again, chal-
lenged her. and again she looked at
him. Looked without fiinching, for
she saw only the steady gray Of his
eyes.
Somehow they were talking, or rath-
er she was talking. She hardly knew
what she was saying. but he answered
her. and she thrilled to the sound of
his voice. Once he even laughed, and
there was less harsh sound there,
At the wharf she left him and hur-
ried up the cobbly street to the post
Office. There was no mail, but then
it was, after all, only an excuse to be out
In the fog. All the way home she
thought Of the man with the yellow
hair and the blue eyes, He was oil
one Of the barges she had watched
come into the harbor. Bound to the
| BASTARD, he had said. Portland with