Their eyes suddenly met and they laughed, a happy little friendly laugh. What would people think about it? It didn’t occur to them. Other people about them were doing the same thing. Husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, parents and children, lovers, who had a right to be holding hands. They were only schoolmates. Yet because of her need and his nearness, it seemed quite right for her hands to be lying in his in this pleasant, protected, comforting way.

Then suddenly out of the melee of laughter and tears and farewells came the screeching of the siren and the voice of the ship’s official, calling, “All ashore that’s going ashore! Last call!”

People all about gave a moan and started away from the rail, making for the exit, leaving Rose and Gordon in a little space by themselves. Farewell kisses and laughter and last words were in the air, and Rose realized that her friend was going! In a moment more she would be standing here alone again, but she would have his friendly words to remember, and his smile, his kindliness, the warm clasp of his strong hands on hers.

Then came another warning whistle.

“I must go!” he said. “I’m sorry. But—we are friends, aren’t we? And—you will be coming back, won’t you? When?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said sadly.

“Oh, but where are you going? I must have your address!”

She murmured the name of the little Scottish town to which she was going. Her hands were still in his clasp.

“Have you friends there?”

“Yes, my uncle, John Galbraith. It’s Kilcreggan.”

“Write me, please, as soon as you land, and again when you reach where you’re staying. I shall be anxious to know how the trip went. Will you?”

“Yes,” she breathed shyly, “if you want me to.”

“I certainly do!” he said fervently.

“Last call!” came the echo from below.

Suddenly he stooped and laid his lips on hers in a warm, friendly kiss. “Good-bye!” he said earnestly. With another lingering pressure of her hands he let them go and hurried away.

Then, just at the head of the steps, he flung back and pressed a card in her hand.

“My present address,” he said breathlessly. “Don’t forget to write at once!”

And then he was gone, so swiftly and so fully that his presence seemed almost like something that had not been. Yet she still felt the warmth of his handclasp on her hands, the thrill of his good-bye kiss on her lips, and her cheeks were glowing with the memory.

Chapter 2

Rose stood for several minutes searching before she could find him in that crowd waiting down below. The gangplank had been hauled in, and she leaned over the rail and watched breathlessly, searching the throng. Would he perhaps be carried along and have to go back on the pilot boat? It would be her fault if that should happen to him.

But then her gaze swept the whole side of the ship, and she saw him hurrying off from the other plank where the baggage had been loaded aboard.

All about her were excited voices; confetti and paper ribbons flung over the rail, landing at the feet of friends, or about their necks; handkerchiefs waving; people crying; people laughing and contributing to the general symphony of sound. There were many smart sayings that were never heard above the noise of the boat as it thundered its final farewell to its native land.

But Gordon McCarroll was making his way through the crowd toward the end of the dock that was below the forward deck where he had left her. He looked up and signaled and then smiled with an intent gaze, for all the world as if she were an old friend, the kind of friend she had always in her heart wished she might be.

He was standing there and waiting, as if he had brought her down here and put her aboard. He was taking away that deathly loneliness and making her feel as if she belonged, as if he really cared for her loneliness and wanted to comfort her.

Suddenly she smiled, a radiant glow like sunshine illuminating her face. As they stood there looking at one another during those last seconds, while the ship began to move, it was almost as if words, pleasant assurances, passed between them.

And when at last the ship passed on into the dimness of the blue mist that was the sea, Gordon McCarroll still stood there, looking out at the mere speck the ship had become, thinking amazing thoughts about the little girl who was alone out there on a strange sea! The little girl whom he had known so slightly during the years of their school days together. How she had suddenly become of importance to him! Just the clasp of her hand, the touch of her lips, and something dear had crept into his heart that he could not understand nor fathom. Was that merely a thing of the flesh? No, he thought not. There seemed something almost holy about it.

She had always interested him. Her quaint answers in class had frequently drawn his attention, but he had looked upon her as someone out of an unknown world, for he had never met her elsewhere than in school, and his interest in her had always been but passing. Yet he remembered now that he had often marked the blueness of her eyes, the lights of gold in her hair that curled so naturally about her delicate refined face. And now he had seen in her today a beauty he had never noticed before. Perhaps it had always been there.