quiver.

Finally Morris seemed to muster up courage enough to begin, and he said
one word--

"Katherine." As he said this he placed his hand on hers as it lay white
before him in the darkness upon the trembling bulwark. It seemed to him
that she made a motion to withdraw her hand, and then allowed it to
remain where it was.

"Katherine," he continued, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his
own, "we have known each other only a very short time comparatively;
but, as I think I said to you once before, a day on shipboard may be as
long as a month on shore. Katherine, I want to ask you a question, and
yet I do not know--I cannot find--I--I don't know what words to use."

The young lady turned her face towards him, and he saw her clear-cut
profile sharply outlined against the glowing water as he looked down
at her. Although the young man struggled against the emotion, which is
usually experienced by any man in his position, yet he felt reasonably
sure of the answer to his question. She had come with him out into the
night. She had allowed her hand to remain in his. He was, therefore,
stricken dumb with amazement when she replied, in a soft and musical
voice--

"You do not know what to say? What do you _usually_ say on such an
occasion?"

"Usually say?" he gasped in dismay. "I do not understand you. What do
you mean?"