10-Story Book, February 1928 — page 54: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

— 52 , THE SOUTH SEA ISLAND NUMBER ped contentedly back into her seat, as though that clumsy sentence was the one thing she’d been waiting to hear, and the only one that mattered. Sebastien, a greedy sneer on his lips, glanced toward me, plainly expecting me to take my turn at speechifying. But my brain seemed spinning like a cock- chafer on a pin. “She’s yours,” I kept telling myself. “Body and soul, to mold or break.” Odd scraps of the marriage service came and went, and memories of men who'd have taken her as wife without troubling about any marriage service at all. There were precious few in those latitudes who hadn’t a petticoat in tow, somewhere or other. It was the mere accident of chance and temperament, and nothing to my credit, that I hadn’t followed their example. Her hand groped for, and found, mine, a hand as warm and tremulous and con- fiding as a child’s. I caught the soft flash of her eyes as they scanned my face. An odd mixture of awe and shame washed over me. I lifted the hand and kissed it, and heard her little fluttering sigh, and Sebastien gritting his teeth. “There’s just one point,” I said. “That lumber room is no place to berth a lady. My own cabin, beyond, is mighty crowd- ed, but I’m going to hand it over in ex- change.” She nodded, and after that, the wed- ding party broke up, and not too soon, for I saw that the girl was pretty well exhausted, and small wonder. We had supper early, and alone, Se- bastien being on deck. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I don’t fancy either of us had much to say. Afterward we went to the cabin that was to be hers. There were a good many odds 11d ends to sling out, but not much to be done in the way of straightening up— I’ve always been rather finicky in my habits. Halcyon watched me idly, and with no particular interest. One thing I noticed. The key, whicn had been in the door earlier in the dav, was missing. There was a bolt as well, but it was a flimsy, second-rate affair. “Halcyon,” I said, “can you use an automatic pistol ?” She’d never fired one, though she’d seen them before. I fetcned mine, and explained the mechanism—she was very quick at understanding that sort of thing —until I could trust her to use it blind- folded. “But why?” she asked, wrinkling her forehead. “The black fellows,” I told her, “aren’t always as respectful as they might be. If you hear any one fooling with the door, challenge once, and then fire. I shall hear the shot and come if I can. But if I don't come and they break in—” “T will shoot again, to kill them dead,” said Halcyon cheerfully. But there was still a puzzled look in her eyes. “Good night,” I said at last. “Where you go?” “To my own cabin—the one further along.” “But why? We are married. You are my man, my lord.” She touched my sleeve. “You like me—a little?” “Like you? There’s not a living thing on God’s earth that counts a cent beside you!” “Then”—the blood rushed to her face —“must I shame myself yet again?” For a minute I couldn’t answer. She put a hand on each of my shoulders. The warmth and scent and nearness of her shook me. “If I think you do not want me”—her voice was a murmur—“then I take a knife, and thrust it here’—she touched her left breast—“and throw myself into the sea, and die.” “I'd sell my soul rather than lose you. COMICONOOKS.CO© mn