Page:Stanwood Pier--The ancient grudge.djvu/55

44 college and done things I'm ashamed of; and I guess I've turned over a new leaf. Why, I'd sort of taken it for granted, you know, that when I got to Paris and began studying architecture, I'd be as gay as any of them; but I'm glad, I honestly am, that I have somebody that whether she's there or here will keep me straight."

"Well, it's wonderful," Floyd said after a pause. "Being so—complete. Finding you love a girl—and she loves you. How anybody ever dares to—to think she might—to touch her—" The conception was too vast for him to formulate it; he relapsed into silence.

"You'll be finding out some day," Stewart assured him. "It will hit you all of a heap."

Floyd shook his head. "You know, when I think about it—a fellow gets foolish and does sometimes," he interjected deprecatingly—"it seems as if I'd never grow up to it. Why, I remember, just as if it were yesterday—"

He stopped suddenly.

"What?" said Stewart.

"Oh, nothing. It was the day you stayed under water too long. I had n't meant to speak of it."

"Go on," urged Stewart, with a laugh. "I don't mind hearing about it."

"Why, I was just remembering the way Lydia—Miss Dunbar—rowed me ashore—after they'd taken you," Floyd said, sitting up and clasping his hands about his knees. "The way she sat, not crying at all, but with her eyes sort of wet and yet minding what she was about, and pulling just as smooth and coming up just as straight—I remember looking at her wrists as she gripped the oars, and seeing how tanned they were by the sun—and small. I wanted to touch them, I remember; I don't know why, except somehow to let her know I was sorry and would like to help her if I could. It seems foolish, but I guess that was it; anyway, I've always remembered how I wanted to touch those little brown wrists. And then I realized I did n't dare—and I wondered if I'd