Even then he did not grasp the full import of her provocative question.
"It isn't you. I'm the one who is wholly to blame," he stammered. "I
have dared to--But no matter. I know my place. I'll show you I know it."
"You dared to--What have you dared to do--besides what you just did?"
"I cannot tell you, Miss Marston. I don't propose to insult you again."
"I command you to tell me, Captain Mayo."
He could not comprehend her mood in the least and his demeanor showed
it. Her command had a funny little ripple in it--as of laughter
suppressed. There were queer quirks at the corners of her full, red
lips.
"Now straighten up like your real self! I don't like to see you standing
that way. You know I like to have all the folks on the yachts look at
our captain when we go into a harbor! You didn't know it? Well, I do.
Now what have you dared to do?"
He did straighten then. "I have dared to fall in love with you, Miss
Marston. So have a lot of other fools, I suppose. But I am the worst of
all. I am only a sailor. How I lost control of myself I don't know!"
"Not even now?" Still that unexplainable softness in her voice, that
strange expression on her face. Being a sailor, he looked on this calm
as being ominous presage of a storm.
"I am willing to have you report me to your father, Miss Marston. I will
take my punishment. I will never offend you again."
"You can control yourself after this, can you?"
"Yes, Miss Marston, absolutely."
She hesitated; she smiled. She lowered her eyelids again and surveyed
him with the satisfied tolerance a pretty woman can so easily extend
when unconquerable ardor has prompted to rashness.
"Oh, you funny, prim Yankee!" she murmured. "You don't understand even
now just why you did it!"
His face revealed that he did not in the least understand.
"Come here," she invited.
He went three steps across the narrow cabin and stood in an attitude of
respectful obedience before her.
"What now, sir?" It was query even more provocative--a smile went with
it.
"I apologize. I have learned my lesson."
"You need to learn a lot--you are very ignorant," she replied, with
considerable tartness.
"Yes," he agreed, humbly.
What happened then was so wholly outside his reckoning that the
preceding events of the evening retired tamely into the background. It
had been conceivable that rush of passion might drive him to break all
the rules of conduct his New England conscience had set over him; but
what Alma Marston did overwhelmed him with such stupefaction that he
stood there as rigid and motionless as a belaying-pin in a rack. She put
up her arms, pressed her two hands on his shoulders, stood on tiptoe,
and kissed him on his lips.