Cunningham laid his napkin on the table and stood up.
"Absolute personal liberty, if you will accept the situation sensibly."
Dennison glowered at him, but Jane reached out and touched the soldier's
sleeve.
"Please!"
"For your sake, then. But it's tough medicine for me to swallow."
"To be sure it is," agreed the rogue. "Look upon me as a supercargo for
the next ten days. You'll see me only at lunch and dinner. I've a lot of
work to do in the chart house. By the way, the wireless man is mine,
Cleigh, so don't waste any time on him. Hope you're a good sailor, Miss
Norman, for we are heading into rough weather, and we haven't much beam."
"I love the sea!"
"Hang it, you and I shan't have any trouble! Good-night."
Cunningham limped to the door, where he turned and eyed the elder Cleigh,
who was stirring his coffee thoughtfully. Suddenly the rogue burst into a
gale of laughter, and they could hear recurrent bursts as he wended his
way to the companion.
When this sound died away Cleigh turned his glance levelly upon Jane. The
stone-like mask dissolved into something that was pathetically human.
"Miss Norman," he said, "I don't know what we are heading into, but if we
ever get clear I will make any reparation you may demand."
"Any kind of a reparation?"--an eager note in her voice.
Dennison stared at her, puzzled, but almost instantly he was conscious of
the warmth of shame in his cheeks. This girl wasn't that sort--to ask for
money as a balm for the indignity offered her. What was she after?
"Any kind of reparation," repeated Cleigh.
"I'll remember that--if we get through. And somehow I believe we shall."
"You trust that scoundrel?" asked Cleigh, astonishedly.
"Inexplicably--yes."
"Because he happens to be handsome?"--with frank irony.
"No." But she looked at the son as she spoke. "He said he never broke his
word. No man can be a very great villain who can say that. Did he ever
break his word to you?"
"Except in this instance."
"The beads?"
"I am quite confident he knows where they are."
"Are they so precious? What makes them precious?"
"I have told you--they are love beads."
"That's rank nonsense! I'm no child!"
"Isn't love rank nonsense?" Cleigh countered. He was something of a
banterer himself.