Chapter XXVII. And a Dream Comes True - Page 2

distasteful to her as to you."

"Absurd! It was her chance for revenge, and she rejoiced in making me ridiculous."

"Then it is the first ignoble thing I ever knew her to do," said Boyd, slowly. "She has helped me in a hundred ways. Without her assistance, I could never have won through. That cannery site would still be grown up to moss and trees, and I would still be a disheartened dreamer."

"It's very nice of you, of course, to appreciate what she has done. But she can't help you any more. You surely don't intend to keep up your acquaintance with her now." He made no reply, and, taking his silence for agreement, she went on: "The trip home will be terribly dull for me, I'm afraid. I think--yes, I shall have father ask you to go back with us."

"But I am right in the midst of the run. I can't leave the business."

"Oh, business! Do you care more for business than for me? I don't think you realize how terribly hard for me all this has been--I'm still frightened. I shall die of nervousness without some one to talk to."

"It's quite impossible! I--don't want to go back now."

"Indeed? And no doubt it was impossible for you to come out here last night for the same reason."

"It was. The fish struck in, and I could not leave."

"It was that woman who kept you!" cried Mildred. "It is because of her that you refuse to leave this country!"

"Please don't," he said, quietly. "I have never thought of her in that way--"

"Then come away from this wretched place. I detest the whole country--the fisheries, the people, everything. This isn't your proper sphere. Why come away, now, at once, and begin something new, something worth while?"

"Do you realize the hopes, the heartaches, the vital effort I have put into this enterprise?" he questioned.

But she only said:

"I don't like it. It isn't a nice business. Let father take the plant over. If you need money, I have plenty--"

"Wait!" he interrupted, sharply. "Sit down, I want to talk to you." He drew the wrap closer about her shoulders and led her to a deck-chair. The change in him was becoming more apparent. He knew now that he had never felt the same since his first meeting with Mildred upon the arrival of The Grande Dame. Even then she had repelled him by her lack of sympathy. She had shown no understanding of his efforts, and now she revealed as complete a failure to grasp his code of honor. It never occurred to her that any loyalty of man to man could offset her simple will. She did not see that his desertion of George would be nothing short of treachery.

It seemed to him all at once that they had little in common. She was wrapped completely in the web of