A similar high current of feeling coursed through Richard, too, at the sound of her low voice, earnestly repeating the single word to him.

9

IT WAS AFTER nine o’clock when Laurel and Richard reached the pier for the second time that evening. It was deserted. So, too, Laurel observed, with a fresh wave of gratitude for the boy who had saved her, and her mother also, were the rustic seats.

“I’m going in by a side door,” Laurel said to Richard, as they walked toward the lighted hotel. “You go in the other way. You see the crowd. I want to go right up to my mother as quickly as I can.”

“But you’ll be down again?”

“Not tonight.”

“You haven’t had any dinner.”

“I’ll have some sent up.”

“But—”

“Please.”

“Shan’t I see you again tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

“When shall I see you again?”

(In ten—in five minutes, when the crowd told him, he wouldn’t want to see her ever again.)

“Tomorrow,” she managed to smile.

“Yes. Don’t forget. We’re going to have lunch together tomorrow.”

“I won’t.”

“I’ve only four days left,” he went on eagerly, “give me the morning before lunch, too, will you? Please. We’ve so much to talk about, and I’ve only four days left. We’ll go somewhere alone.”

They had reached the rear door now. Laurel had one hand on the knob.

“Will you? Please answer. Will you?”

Laurel turned and looked up at him, and nodded.

“Right after breakfast?”

She nodded again.

“Promise?”

For the third time she nodded, then suddenly reached out her free hand and touched Richard Grosvenor on his arm, drew her hand back quickly, and whispered, “Good-night.”

Her eyes were as black as the lake beneath the moon.

“Laurel!” Richard moved toward her, but she had turned, she had gone. The big door with its heavy spring closed softly upon him.

Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

1

LAUREL FOUND HER mother propped up in bed.

“Well, of all things! Where have you been?” she exclaimed as Laurel came into the room.

“Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Not till just about half an hour ago; then that Mrs. Grosvenor sent a bellboy up with a note, saying not to worry, you had lost something and had gone back to the island with her boy to hunt for it. What did you lose, Laurel?”

“My watch.”

“Your watch! Why, don’t you remember you said this morning you wouldn’t wear it because it might get wet? There it is on the bureau!”

“Why, that is so.”

“Gracious! What’s the matter with you?”

“I must be losing my memory, I guess,” smiled Laurel wanly.

She crossed the room and slipped the watch onto her wrist.

“Had a good time today?” Stella inquired.

“Wonderful.”

“You must tell me about it. Every word! I’m crazy to hear.”

“I will. How have you been, Mother?”