Nothing in the world would please him better. But the rest of her words were far from reassuring. They were almost an insult. But she was very lovely, adorable. She was far too gorgeous for him really to be angry. Nevertheless he said decisively, "Of course I'll marry you. Did I not say I was your slave? The suggestion of payment, however, is disagreeable to me. Anything I do will be done because I am mad about you. You can send me away if you like, but let there be no mention of money between us." He smiled wickedly. "Let us set it down merely as American courtesy," he added.
Dick Varney had always been impetuous. He had been in more tight corners than an African explorer. But always he had succeeded in wriggling out. By nature he was daring, impulsive, reckless. He was used to making snap judgments. Hence there was now no half-measure in his devotion. He was intoxicated by the beauty of the girl and in a few hours they would be married. It was like a dream of loveliness. Unbelievable.
Sometime later he sat on the side of
the ship and gazed at the low-hanging
moon. Before him lay Singapore,
dty of mystery and romance, of strange
whisperings and quaint shadows. But
nothing in Singapore was stranger than
the chaos into which his life had been
plunged. Put it down that he was mad.
The moon glowed in yellow splendor
over the blue-purple shadows of the city.
Life was very wonderful indeed. And
then she came to him. The perfume of
her hair was sweeter than the breath of
flowers. It was the deepest hush of the
night, the blackest hour before sunrise.
"Come," she whispered, "a tiny boat is waiting for us."
He followed as she led the way to St rough rope-ladder. The night was intensely black. No light was visible anywhere on the junk. He groped his way down the ladder and she followed. Soon the sound of oars broke the silence as the little boat floated off down the black river. Here and there along the banks specks of light peeped out like stars. The East never sleeps, never rests. Its maze of confusion and mystery flows onward endlessly.
Dick sat in the stem of the boat. Dolores was beside him. It was enchantment. This glorious girl, a girl whom he scarcely knew, was to be his wife before another sun had set. He was plunging headlong into romance and adventure. His whole life had been a jumble. Softly his arm crept about her shoulders. It was a mad moment, a night of witchery. Who could act sanely on such a night? He drew her to him and pressed his lips to hers. She sighed softly. "Don't," she whispered; "please don't."
At once he released her, but it did not matter. He had kissed her lips. He had expected anger. Instead she had pushed him gently away. Was it only imagination or had she really yielded to him for a single moment?
The oars swished softly in the water. A gentle breeze sprang up and caressed their cheeks. The moon had set, leaving the sky a deeper blue than ever. Like lamps the stars gleamed forth, making the waters weirdly black. At last the little boat stopped. As it did so the dawn thundered up in the east. It burst in a flame of orange-rose and gold. The blue-purple mists of night fled in terror before its glory. The country loomed up sleepily. Birds began to twitter in the tree tops. The distant lantern lights flickered out. The stars dimmed.
Dick helped Dolores to alight from the
