CHAPTER XIX
AT THE END OF THE ROPE
BETWEEN periods of extreme weakness, when life barely flickered within the man from the Four Winds, he spoke incoherently of many things, as his tortured brain jumped from one vivid moment in his past to another. There were times when he referred to a girl with strange greenish eyes. Sometimes he addressed her directly, as Eileen; but it was not in the language of love that he spoke … rather was it as a youngster in his teens might banter with a girl. Once he adopted quite a fatherly tone toward Eileen. Joan was sitting by his bedside. Keith was addressing an imaginary figure at the foot of the bed.
"I've often thought of you," he said seriously. "Lord, it's many a year since you and I used to have good times together. 'Member that day in the orchard when you fed me with cherries, and you fought like a cat as soon as I tried to kiss you? I'd just got back from my first voyage, and you'd switched over to some other fellow. I can't remember his name though. Did you ever marry him? Didn't you, really? Stop laughing." Keith
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