" He walked over to the railing and leaned
against it, facing her. "But it was about you all the same, and I may as
well tell you. You remember, I warned you long ago what would happen
when you wanted to become a partner in Berande. Well, all the beach is
gossiping about it; and Tudor persisted in repeating the gossip to me. So
you see it won't do for you to stay on here under present conditions. It
would be better if you went away."
"But I don't want to go away," she objected with rueful countenance.
"A chaperone, then--"
"No, nor a chaperone."
"But you surely don't expect me to go around shooting every slanderer in
the Solomons that opens his mouth?" he demanded gloomily.
"No, nor that either," she answered with quick impulsiveness. "I'll tell
you what we'll do. We'll get married and put a stop to it all. There!"
He looked at her in amazement, and would have believed that she was
making fun of him had it not been for the warm blood that suddenly
suffused her cheeks.
"Do you mean that?" he asked unsteadily. "Why?"
"To put a stop to all the nasty gossip of the beach. That's a pretty
good reason, isn't it?"
The temptation was strong enough and sudden enough to make him waver, but
all the disgust came back to him that was his when he lay in the grass
fighting gnats and cursing adventure, and he answered,--
"No; it is worse than no reason at all.
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