like it. She was
overcome with shame and with the mystery of her own burgeoning womanhood.
She stole a glance at Martin, who was busy putting the boat about on the
other tack, and she could have hated him for having made her do an
immodest and shameful thing. And he, of all men! Perhaps her mother was
right, and she was seeing too much of him. It would never happen again,
she resolved, and she would see less of him in the future. She
entertained a wild idea of explaining to him the first time they were
alone together, of lying to him, of mentioning casually the attack of
faintness that had overpowered her just before the moon came up. Then
she remembered how they had drawn mutually away before the revealing
moon, and she knew he would know it for a lie.

In the days that swiftly followed she was no longer herself but a
strange, puzzling creature, wilful over judgment and scornful of self-
analysis, refusing to peer into the future or to think about herself and
whither she was drifting. She was in a fever of tingling mystery,
alternately frightened and charmed, and in constant bewilderment. She
had one idea firmly fixed, however, which insured her security. She
would not let Martin speak his love. As long as she did this, all would
be well. In a few days he would be off to sea. And even if he did
speak, all would be well. It could not be otherwise, for she did not
love him. Of course, it would be a painful half hour for him, and an
embarrassing half hour for her, because it would be her first proposal.
She thrilled deliciously at the thought. She was really a woman, with a
man ripe to ask for her in marriage. It was a lure to all that was
fundamental in her sex. The fabric of her life, of all that constituted
her, quivered and grew tremulous. The thought fluttered in her mind like
a flame-attracted moth. She went so far as to imagine Martin proposing,
herself putting the words into his mouth; and she rehearsed her refusal,
tempering it with kindness and exhorting him to true and noble manhood.
And especially he must stop smoking cigarettes. She would make a point
of that. But no, she must not let him speak at all. She could stop him,
and she had told her mother that she would. All flushed and burning, she
regretfully dismissed the conjured situation. Her first proposal would
have to be deferred to a more propitious time and a more eligible suitor.

CHAPTER XXI

Came a beautiful fall day