One Day Part 12

They stood silently for a minute, hand still in hand, looking far out over the moonlit waters, each conscious of the trend of the other's thoughts--the beating of the other's heart. The deck was deserted by all save their two selves--they two alone in the big starlit universe. At last she spoke.

"This is interesting, isn't it?"

"Of course!--holding your hand!"

She s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him. "I forgot you had it," she said.

"Forget again!"

"No, I won't!... Is it always interesting?... holding a girl's hand?"

"It depends upon the girl, I suppose! I was enjoying it immensely just then."

He took her hand again.

And again that perilously sweet silence fell between them.

At last, "Promise me, Paul!" she said.

"I will--what is it?"

"Promise me to forget anything I may say or do to-night ... not to think hard of me, however rashly I may act! I'm not accountable, really! I'm liable to say ...anything! I feel it in my blood!"

"I understand, Opal! See! the winds are boisterous and unruly enough.

You may be as rash and reckless as you will!"

Suddenly the wind blew her against his breast. The perfume of her hair, and all the delicious nearness of her, intoxicated him. He laughed a soft, caressing little lover-laugh, and raising her face to his, kissed her lips easily, naturally, as though he had the right. She struggled, helplessly, as he held her closely to him, and would not let her go.

"You are a--" She bit her lip, and choked back the offensive word.

"A--what? Say it, Opal!"

"A--a--_brute_! There! let me go!"

But he only held her closer and laughed again softly, till she whispered, "I didn't--quite--_mean_ that, you know!"

"Of course you didn't!"

She drew away from him and pointed her finger at him accusingly, her eyes full of reproof.

"But--you _said_ you wouldn't! You promised!"

"Wouldn't what?"

"Wouldn't do--what you did--again!"

"Did I?" insinuatingly.

"How dare you ask that? You----"

"'Brute' again? Quite like old married folk!"

"Old married folk? They never kiss!"

"Don't they?"

"Not each other!... other people's husbands or wives!"

"Is that it?"

"Surely----

'Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, He would have written sonnets all his life?'

O no! not he!"

"I'm learning many new things, Opal! Let's play we're married, then--to someone else!"

"But--haven't you any conscience at all?"

"Conscience?--what a question! Of course I have!"

"You certainly aren't using it to-night!"

"I'm too busy! Kiss me!"

"The very idea!"

"Please!"

"Certainly not!"

"Then let me kiss you!"

_"No!!!"_

"Why not?--Don't you like to be loved?"

And his arms closed around her, and his lips found hers again, and held them.

At last, "Silly Boy!"

"Why?"

"Oh! to make such a terrible fuss about something he doesn't really want, and will be sorry he has after he gets it!"

And Paul asked her wickedly, what foolish boy she was talking about now?

_He_ knew what he really wanted--always--and was not sorry when he had it. Not he! He was sorry only for the good things he had let slip, never for those he had taken!