And then,
"Will you light the lamps, M'sieu David?" a soft voice came to
him. "I want to come in, and I am afraid of this terrible
darkness!"
He rose to his feet, fumbling in his pocket for matches.
XVIII
He did not turn toward Marie-Anne when he had lighted the first of
the great brass lamps hanging at the side of the bateau. He went
to the second, and struck another match, and flooded the cabin
with light.
She still stood silhouetted against the darkness beyond the cabin
door when he faced her. She was watching him, her eyes intent, her
face a little pale, he thought. Then he smiled and nodded. He
could not see a great change in her since this afternoon, except
that there seemed to be a little more fire in the glow of her
eyes. They were looking at him steadily as she smiled and nodded,
wide, beautiful eyes in which there was surely no revelation of
shame or regret, and no very clear evidence of unhappiness. David
stared, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
"Why is it that you sit in darkness?" she asked, stepping within
and closing the door. "Did you not expect me to return and
apologize for leaving you so suddenly this afternoon? It was
impolite.
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