"Harry!" I heard her call, and turned quickly. "Harry, wait!"
She came hurrying up toward me. I felt my color rise. Awkwardly, I
stood waiting, and did not greet her. I cast a quick glance the other
way down the beach. It would be a hundred yards before the first bend
of the shore-line would carry us behind the tall rushes. Meantime, we
were in full sight of all.
Partial, who had followed me when I whistled, now greeted her more
joyously than did his master.
"Yes?" said I dully; "I suppose you came to take away my dog from me,
didn't you? It was all that was left."
"Of course," said she coloring. "I didn't know but what Partial might
be hungry."
"It is I who am hungry, Helena," said I. "I have long been hungry--for
a look, a word."
She did not smile, showed not any trace of coquetry in her mien, but
paced on with me now down the beach. I suppose she knew when we had
turned the point of rushes, for now she laid her hand on my rough
canvas sleeve. It must have cost her effort to do that.
"Harry, what's wrong with you?" said she after a time, since I still
remained moodily staring ahead. I did not answer, would not look at
her for a time, but at length she turned. She stood, I say, with her
hand on my arm, her chin raised fully, her serious eyes fixed on me.
The dark hair was blown all about her face. She had on over her long
white sweater a loose silk waterproof of some sort, which blew every
way, but did not disturb the lines of her tall figure, nor lessen the
pale red and white which the sea breeze had stung into her cheeks. She
did not smile, and her eyes, I say, looked steadily and seriously into
mine.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked, frowning slightly, as it seemed to
me.
"Everything in the world is wrong with me, as you know very well,"
said I. "Am I not a poor man? Am I not an unsuccessful lover? Am I not
a failure under every test which you can apply? Am I not a coward--did
you not tell me so yourself?"
Her eyes grew damp slowly. "I didn't mean it," said she.
"Then why did you say it?"
"It was long before--that was before last night, Harry. You forget."
"What if it was?" I demanded. "I was the same man then that I was last
night."
"I didn't mean it, Harry," said she, her voice low. Her hand was still
on my arm. Her eye now was cast down, the tip of her toe was tracing a
circle on the wet sand where we stood.