She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that
terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen
had they looked at her--felt that she was branded forever by the burning
touch of his lips!




CHAPTER VIII


It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal
met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom
during an ocean voyage--especially during the first few days--and the
girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself
secluded.

She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was
yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt
woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the
world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon
all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told
herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very
first. But she knew he was too young for that--far too young--- and his
eyes were frank and clear and open, with no dark secrets behind their
curtained lids. But what was he--and who?

When the day was far spent, she knew that she was no nearer a solution
than she had been at dawn, so she resolved to join the group at table