Go back to your cabin and get
a night's sleep. Don't let Rossland worry you. If you want me to settle
with that man--"
"Good night, Mr. Holt."
She was opening the door. And as she went out she turned a little and
looked at him, and now she was smiling, and there were tears in
her eyes.
"Good night."
"Good night."
The door closed behind her. He heard her retreating footsteps. In half a
minute he would have called her back. But it was too late.
CHAPTER VIII
For half an hour Alan sat smoking his cigar. Mentally he was not at
ease. Mary Standish had come to him like a soldier, and she had left him
like a soldier. But in that last glimpse of her face he had caught for
an instant something which she had not betrayed in his cabin--a stab of
what he thought was pain in her tear-wet eyes as she smiled, a proud
regret, possibly a shadow of humiliation at last--or it may have been a
pity for him. He was not sure. But it was not despair. Not once had she
whimpered in look or word, even when the tears were in her eyes, and the
thought was beginning to impress itself upon him that it was he--and not
Mary Standish--who had shown a yellow streak this night. A half shame
fell upon him as he smoked. For it was clear he had not come up to her
judgment of him, or else he was not so big a fool as she had hoped he
might be.
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