The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1940-04-19
CHAPTER IV-Continued

-
Gay could not have made strong
er appeal to Johns imagination. She
could not have presented her fiance
in role which would so quickly
have won Johns admiration and re-
spect. A love for sailing was his
heritage from ancestors who had
captained their own vessels around
the world. The glory of the days OF
clippers and packets remained in
the village in which he had spent
his childhood and early youth, in
memory and mementos. The house
in which he'd been born and in
which his mother lived now had a
square lookout" on the roof; the
walls of the library were covered
with tea-paper from China; the bowl
from which he'd eaten cereal as
child had been brought in the hold OF
a ship around the Horn. The sort
of sailing she spoke of was different,
of course, but the swift vision OF
sails filling in the wind, the smell
of brine-soaked rigging and rope,
the thrill of deck canting beneath
feet instinctively braced, moved him
to enthusiastic and, for the instant
at least, quite unenvious response.
"That's a pretty swell prospect"
he said.
eyes, isn't it," she said brightly,
too brightly, so that again he was
aware of the passion beneath the
light knocking words. "And that's
only the beginning. Todd's father
is giving us his place in Connecti-
cut, too, SO that we'll have an an
chorage and Dad has bought an
apartment house over by the East
River because, of course, we'll have
to spend some time in town. We're
to have the top floor. The contest
is on as to whether the decor is to
be smartly modern or quantity Vic
torian. I'm backing Mother to win.
She's all for glass and chromium.
Aunt Flora's what-not and ball
fringes haven't a chance"
$50 you see there's no sensible
reason why I should have run away.
It was the whim of spoiled little
brat who hasn't sense enough to
know her luck"
"Gay-!" he said, louder this
time, his voice gritty with effort.
t'Wil you stop talking like an alb
surd little fool?"
''But I am" She was moving,
now, with a rocking motion back
and forth on the float. "What gift
for description you have!"
you're trying to make me think
you are," he said brusquely, "but
you aren't succeeding" He bent to-
ward her and his voice softened
from demand to an appeal. what
are you getting at? What are you
trying to tell me? Please"
She drew a long sobbing breath
and the house of cards tumbled into
fragments. She looked up at him,
her eyes dilated by tears, then down
into the water.
81 don't want to 60 back to New
York." she said, so low that he
scarcely heard her and as though
the words were forced from her by
some agency beyond her control.
He did not reply. The sympathy
that welled from his heart in an I'M
grudging flood made coherent
thought impossible. He sat watch
ing her efforts to regain the control
his appeal had shattered, fighting a
desire to take her in his arms, feel
ing in his own senses the throb of
the pulse at the base of her throat,
the trembling that shook her body.
Presently she grew quiet. When she
turned to him again, her face was
composed.
81 suppose ! should apologize,
now" she said coolly. Her poise,
her detachment, checked the rush.
ing flood of sympathy and tender
concern.
'tIt isn't necessary" he said stiff
ly, feeling that she had tricked him,
Inundated because he had been so
naively moved by what might very
well have been feminine histrionics.
81 won't, them" She bundled her
bright hair into a rubber cap. "Apol-
ogies are misleading" She sprang
to her feet. "Come ON. I'll race
you to the landing"
She dove from the side of the float,
came to the surface, set off toward
the shore, swimming with an easy
over-arm stroke. He followed, after
a moment. His strong brown body
cut through the water, caught up
with her, slackened its speed to the
slackening rhythm Of her stroke.
"You aren't trying to win!" She
smiled at him across the strip of
water ripping between them.