"That's it," the girl murmured, eagerly. "We don't know anything at all
about why we love. Folks who marry for money make believe love--I have
watched them--I know. I love you. You're my big boy. That's all. That's
enough."
He accepted this comforting doctrine unquestioningly. Her serene
acceptance of the situation, without one wrinkle in her placid brow
to indicate that any future problems annoyed her, did not arouse his
wonderment or cause him to question the depths of her emotions; it only
added one more element to the unreality of the entire affair.
Moon and music, silver sea and glorious night, and a maid who had been,
in his secret thoughts, his dream of the unattainable!
"Will you wait for me--wait till I can make something of myself?" he
demanded.
"You are yourself--right now--that's enough!"
"But the future. I must--"
"Love me--love me now--that's all we need to ask. The future will take
care of itself when the time comes! Haven't you read about the great
loves? How they just forgot the whole petty world? What has love to do
with business and money and bargains? Love in its place--business in its
place! And our love will be our secret until--"
He pardoned her indefiniteness, for when she paused and hesitated she
pressed her lips to his, and that assurance was enough for him.
"Yes--oh yes--Miss Alma!" called a man's voice in the singsong of eager
summons.
"It's Arthur," she said, with snap of impatience in her voice. "Why
won't people let me alone?"
He released her, and she stood at arm's-length, her hands against
his breast. "I have thought--It seemed to me," he stammered, "that
he--Forgive me, but I have loved you so! I couldn't bear to think--think
that he--"
"You thought I cared for him!" she chided. "That's only the man my
father has picked out for me! Why, I wouldn't even allow my father to
select a yachting-cap for me, much less a husband. I'll tell him so when
the time comes!"
Mayo's brows wrinkled in spite of himself. The morrow seemed to play
small part in the calculations of this maid.
"Money--that's all there is to Arthur Beveridge. My father has enough
money for all of us. And if he is stingy with us--oh, it's easy enough
to earn money, isn't it? All men can earn money."
Captain Mayo, sailor, was not sure of his course in financial waters and
did not reply.
"Miss Alma! I say! Oh, where are you?"