not been deeply enough impressed upon the sailor swept over Reba. A determination to make him realize her claim upon him gripped her.
"You won't—you won't forget we're married, will you?" she asked.
He shook his head. "No," briefly he replied.
"And—and—you'll surely come back sometime, won't you?"
He nodded. "Yes."
Then, "Good-by—Nathan," she murmured, and there was a note of wistfulness in her voice, this time.
"Good-by, Rebecca," the sailor answered.
She stretched out her hand. He took it, and suddenly, unurged, of her own free will, the timid, but now resolute and desperate Reba gave the sailor both her hands.
"I'm going to be true to every word I promised at the minister's," she told him fervently.
"I'm going to, too," he said.
She lifted her face, stood on tiptoes a little—oh, she would seal that compact now without a shadow of doubt, whatever it cost. Scarlet-cheeked, "We're married, you know," she said, "and married people when they say good-by"
He understood at last.
"You mean—" he whispered.
"Well, don't you think we ought to?" she queried.
He leaned, and awkwardly, shyly, they kissed each other, somehow, somewhere. She turned then, and without another word nor another glance, hurried away.
