her high cheekbones, the clear-cut nose and chin,
the little line of black mustache that did not hide his hard-set and
yet sensitive lips; the square, rather long jaw--"He'll have deep lines
at the sides of his mouth in a few more years," she thought, and--"He's
much darker than I remembered him. But he has no color under the
brown. I thought he had a good deal of color . . ." She appraised his
face, not liking it altogether, as if she had never seen it before.
His hand, long, narrow, muscular, burned even more deeply than his
face, and with a fine black down lying close over it, seemed a hand she
had never seen or been touched by before. But that was his
wedding-ring--her wedding-ring--on the thin third finger. She even
knew that inside it was an inscription--"Marjorie--Francis----" and the
date of their wedding. Hers was like it. He had bought them and had
them inscribed with everything but the actual date before she had given
in; that had been put in, of course, the week before their marriage.
Oh, what _right_ had he to be wearing her wedding-ring?

"Would you like a little time to think it over?" he asked heavily.

She was irrationally angry at him. What right had he to think she
needed time to think it over? Why hadn't he the decency to be deceived
by her behavior? Then she stole another look at him, with all the
gaiety and youth gone out of his face, and made up her mind that the
anger ought to be on his side. But it apparently was not.

"Oh, _please_ don't mind!" she begged him, abandoning some of her
defenses. "It's true, I do feel a little strange, but I'm sure it will
all come straight if--if I wait a little. You see, you were gone so
long."

"Yes. I worried a lot about it on shipboard," he answered her
directly. His face did not lighten, but there was a sort of relief in
his tone, as if actually knowing the truth was better than being fenced
with. "I thought to myself--'I hurried her into it so. I wonder if
she really will care when I come back.' It was such a long time. But
then your letters were so sweet and loving, and I cared such a lot----"

His voice broke. He had been talking on a carefully emotionless dead
level, but now he suddenly stopped as if he had come to the end of his
control. But he was only silent a moment, and went on:

"I cared so much that I thought you must. That's a queer thing, isn't
it? You've known all your life that other people think if they care
enough