"
"But it's so. And you helped me to get over it. Before I was married I
used to dream of a man like you. But what chance had I in the
dance-halls along the water-front and my people dead? And he was a
dance-hall hero, the kind girls used to write notes to. I was never as
bad as that--believe me I wasn't,--but I married him just the same--at
seventeen, and what does a girl know of life at seventeen? And him!
Almost on my wedding-day he began to abuse me."
"No, no!"
"It's true. And when you told me you'd take me to your mother--that was
the first message I'd got in five years from a man except what was meant
for my harm. But a good mother--I'll tell her so she'll understand."
"She'll understand without you telling her. She's brought up a dozen of
us and has grand-children--lots of 'em. Sunday morning you'll be in my
mother's house in Port Rock."
She stooped to kiss his hand again.
"Here! Here--you mustn't!"
"I will--I will! And there! And there! And now good-night."
"Good-night," mumbled Jan. He hurried out of the room and all but fell
over the bell-boy in the hall. "What you hanging round for?" Jan almost
hissed. "Go below."
The bell-boy hurried downstairs and "Say, but that's a new kind of an
elopement for this shack!" he exploded to the clerk, and repeated what
he had heard.
The clerk took a look at the register and read: "'Mrs.
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