THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
It would have been well for her if she had cried abandonedly.
"To-morrow we're going to have the greatest Christmas spread they can turn out at Raffles's And after that we're going to see how fast we can get back to those two chairs behind the deck-houses. The old Ajax—huh? I could have cried when I had to leave her at Hong-Kong."
"Why did you come back for me?" The question came involuntarily.
"You want to know?" He looked down at his swollen hands. "Well, because I love you, not like a brother, but like a man who loves one woman once in his life. I know. I'm not exactly your kind. I grew up among the rough-necks, maybe. My education's a joke. But I'll tell you this much: if they'd dragged you down to hell before I got here, I'd 've gone down into hell and dragged you back. You're a good woman. What's one mistake? … Will you marry me?"
He dared not look at her. He continued to stare at his hands. The towel, drawn a bit too tightly, dripped water which trickled down the end of his nose.
Who shall say that these were not the first honest words of love ever spoken in this drab house of bondage? This thought came into the girl's mind as she gazed down at his head. She was dreadfully tired. … Some one to take care of her, some one who loved her to stand between her and all future buffets, to wait upon her and to serve her. Why not? She felt that all her for-
297
