why you won’t do it, and that, because you don’t trust me.”
He took her face in his hands and held it and looked into it.
She was not sure whether she did or not, but she could never have looked into his eyes and said she did not. She knew well enough that he had every intention then of being decent if their relation broke up, but love was such a queer thing, it could fight so desperately and to the last ditch to preserve itself, as she had learned. However, it was to his intention that she answered.
“I do trust you. It isn’t that.”
He dropped her face and with a quick movement got to his feet, filled now with resentment at the stubborn fighter in her. He looked up at the west where clouds were mounting to the zenith.
“It’s going to rain again. I’d better take you back.”
Hurt by a sense of misunderstanding they both got silently into the launch. He carefully arranged every protection against the coming shower, insisting that she take the whole of the rug. He lit the lantern at the bow and headed out into the river.
The trouble was that Valerie could not let go all at once the things she had been telling herself for years. It seemed to her it would be a weak thing to succumb to the first attack. And it must be confessed that she would have loved to put up a fight and stand with Dane against the world. She was young enough and reckless enough to love the idea of it. She did not see then that the fundamental difference between them was that she was a fighter and thought a great deal worth fighting for, whereas he was not a fighter and thought little worth a row.
And then she was much too sure of herself. She was inclined to overrate her accomplishment in this matter of
