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Updated: June 4, 2025
He said to me: 'Here's Merefleet the gold-king, one of the cutest men in U.S.A. His first name is Bernard. So we call him the Big Bear for short. Ever heard your pet name before?" "Never," said Merefleet stiffly, with a suggestive hand on the evening paper. He wished she would leave him alone. With his eyes averted at length, the charm of her presence ceased to attract him.
It's just my nature. And p'r'aps you'll try to forgive me when you think how I truly meant it. I'm telling you this because I want you to do something for me. It'll be real difficult, Big Bear. Only you're so strong." She faltered a little and paused to recover herself. Merefleet was standing close to her. He could have taken her into his arms. But something held him back.
The hand that lay beneath his own twitched as if agitated. "What do you know about trouble?" said Merefleet. She did not answer him. Only he heard a long, hard sigh. Then she laughed rather mirthlessly. "Well," she said, "there aren't many things in this world worth crying for. You've had enough of me, I guess. It's time I shunted." She tried to withdraw her hand, but Merefleet's hold tightened.
"Bert's my cousin," she answered. "He's English right through. You'd like Bert. He's in the smoke-room. Bert and I are great chums." "Are you staying here alone together?" Merefleet enquired. She nodded. "Bert is taking care of me," she explained. "He's like a son to me. I call him my English bull-dog. I just love bull-dogs, Mr. Merefleet." Merefleet was silent.
The man halted in front of him in a conversational attitude. Merefleet knew the position well. It came back to him on a flood of memory. He could not believe that it was twenty years since he had talked with such an one. "Wind in the nor'-east, sir," said the man. "Yes. It's cold for the time of year," said Merefleet. The man assented. "Fish plentiful?" asked Merefleet.
He was absurdly uncertain of himself. She paused near him with the light pouring full upon her. Her eyes met his with a momentary questioning. Then ruthlessly she broke the spell. "Say, now!" she said in brisk, high tones. "Isn't that searchlight thing a real cute invention?" Merefleet shivered at the words. He did not answer her. The shock had been too great.
He was bent on something more important than the satisfaction of his own personal honour. "And now," he said, with deliberate purpose, "I am going to have a private interview with your cousin." Seton started. "You are going to do nothing of the sort," he said instantly. Merefleet looked him over gravely. "Look here, Seton!" he said. "You're making a fool of yourself. Take a friend's advice don't!"
He heard her through the storm. He was still sitting on the middle thwart facing her. He moved, bending towards her. "Come to me here!" he said. "It will be safer." She crept to his outstretched arm with a sense of going into refuge. Merefleet helped her over the thwart. There was a torn piece of sailcloth in the bottom of the boat.
He had grown sluggish with the years, and the spark of understanding was seldom bright. "Aye, but she's a bonny lass, Master Bernard," he said with slow appreciation. "A bonny lass she be. You ain't thinking of getting settled now? I'm thinking she'd keep your home tidy and bright." "Good-bye!" said Merefleet with steady persistence.
Merefleet it's all fixed up, and if he won't come along with us he won't go at all, as we've got Quiller's boat!" Seton glanced up, slightly frowning. "My dear Mab," he said, "allow Mr. Merefleet to please himself! The fact that you are willing to put your life in my hands day after day is no guarantee of my skill as a rower, remember." "Oh, skittles!" said Mab irrelevantly.
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