He came to an abrupt stop, rigid with horror. His hand fell upon her
shoulder, roughly, regardless of the physical pain it was sure to
inflict.
"Mary, how can I be sure that you won't jump in after me? You act so
queerly. I don't understand you. For Heaven's sake, go back! Don't do
anything like that. I can't bear it--I can't bear the thought of you
down there in the water, under the hulls, covered with--Ah!" He
covered his eyes with his hand.
She listened for a tense moment to the labored breathing of the man.
He had thought of her at last! An odd, mysterious smile flickered on
her lips. With a sudden convulsive movement she drew the long shaker
cloak closer about her shoulders.
"Tom, there is a little park over there, with benches. Let us sit down
for a moment."
"You won't do it, Mary, will you?" he pleaded, now completely in the
grip of that terrible dread.
"I am not as brave as you are, Tom," she said. He caught a new,
vibrant note in her voice. He misconstrued it.
"I call it pretty brave to be able to go down and see a man jump into
the river. Not many men could do it, let alone women.
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