Harry looked into her eyes and forgot his vigilance; and with a twist
Pearl slipped through his arms and was across the room. She stood
against the wall of the cabin, her head thrown back, a smile on her
white lips, her eyes daring him.

Seagreave took no dares. It was a part of his creed. He was across the
room in a step, his arms outstretched as if to clasp her.

But Pearl held him with her eyes until at least she covered her face
with her hands and wept and leaned toward him, and again Seagreave
caught her in his arms with a murmur of passionate and inarticulate
words. "I love you, I love you," he whispered, his lips seeking hers.

"Pearl, forgive me. I--I--forgot myself, forgive me. Why, you are as
safe here as in your father's cabin. It will never happen again. I'll
never touch you again unless you let me. Why, Pearl," with a tremulous
attempt at a joke, "for the rest of the time that we're here you can
keep me locked up in the other room if you want to, and just pass my
food through the door now and then when you feel like it."

"Oh, Harry," she was still sobbing, "I'm such a devil. All my life I've
been trying to see what I could get. I set out to make everything and
everybody pay me, and I never got anything but chaff; money and jewels
and applause--all chaff. The only happiness is giving, and I want to
give, give, give to you. That's what I been longing to do ever since I
loved you, and all I could do was to call you names--a quitter and a
shirker." She wept afresh. "And the worst of it is I mean it, I wish I
didn't, but I do."

"But you were right," he said, "good and right, too. You hurt my man's