Page:MacGrath--The luck of the Irish.djvu/157



HAT'S the matter?" asked William, bending toward her in alarm.

"I … I … Nothing!" she stammered. "I feel a little dizzy. Would you mind if I returned to the hotel? You see, we were half a day on that crowded train, and perhaps I'm overdone." "Sure we'll go back."

He looked at the vanishing stern of the yacht, then down at the girl again. They entered a circle of light, and he saw that her hands were clasped convulsively. It was, he surmised, something about the name Elsa. And who was Elsa? A sister? A bit of the old cynicism crept into his mind. It might be that she had a sister named Elsa, a sister who had not turned out right. As he conned this thought over it assumed logical proportions far more agreeable than any he had previously imagined. Here was something that had sense to it. What was more reasonable than that she should flee from the horror and misery of such a tragedy and wrap herself up in mystery?

It was plainly apparent that the name of the yacht had disturbed Ruth, and it was equally clear that she had told a lie about it.

"You mustn't come in on my account," she