CHAPTER XXXIII
THE BLACK YACHT
Her grief for the lifeless changed to concern for the living, as she saw Linda walking towards them. That same strained expression—of alarm, bitterness, and appeal, harshened the soft curves of the other's features, now at the height of their bloom.
Two teeth, as white as foam, bit the coral corner of Sally's mouth, as she puzzled over it all. People were so foolish. Why couldn't they be sensible! Ben was bad enough lately. Could it be? No it must not be. He (she wasn't thinking of Ben in that flash) was just the sort of a man to make a girl happy. Was she herself crazy? They must get back to Salthaven and normal ways of living soon or—(she didn't finish the disjointed sentence in her own mind). To her he could be nothing but a friend. She wanted him to be a friend always. Something would be missing if she never saw him again. But Ben was her boy, her own. Ben was a part of her as a child is of its mother. Fate had so willed it, or God, she thought reverently. And there was no use making that gentle-hearted girl feel badly—who showed so plainly
The sailors were beating the brake and undergrowth, and looking in every likely hiding-place, for a half-mile around
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