"I could have spoken."
"I'm not; I'm reproaching you. Now, the other one. Put it up!"
The nearness to her bred a madness, and he touched his lips lightly to
the same white little toe that had won the Baron Courbertin a kiss.
Though she did not draw back, her face flushed, and she thrilled as she
had thrilled once before in her life. "You take advantage of your own
goodness," she rebuked him.
"Then I will doubly advantage myself."
"Please don't," she begged.
"And why not? It is a custom of the sea to broach the spirits as the
ship prepares to sink. And since this is a sort of a forlorn hope, you
know, why not?"
"But . . ."
"But what, Miss Prim?"
"Oh! Of all things, you know I do not deserve that! If there were
nobody else to be considered, why, under the circumstances . . ."
He drew the last knot tight and dropped her foot. "Damn St. Vincent,
anyway! Come on!"
"So would I, were I you," she laughed, taking up her end of the canoe.
"But how you have changed, Vance. You are not the same man I met on
the Dyea Trail. You hadn't learned to swear, then, among other things."
"No, I'm not the same; for which I thank God and you. Only I think I
am honester than you. I always live up to my philosophy."
"Now confess that's unfair. You ask too much under the
circumstances--"
"Only a little toe.
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