“And I’m going to help you,” she said. “Because I’m telegraphing now, too. I’ll be earning as much—almost as much, as you do. We can live over the depot—”
“We will not!” said Paul. “We’ll have a house. I don’t know that I’m crazy about my wife working.”
“Oh, but I do want to help! A house would be nice. Oh, Paul, with rosebushes in the yard!”
“And a horse and buggy, so we can go riding Sunday afternoons.”
“Besides, if I’m making money—”
“I know. We wouldn’t have to wait so long.”
She flushed. It was what she meant, but she did not want to think so. “I didn’t—I don’t—”
“Of course there’s mother. And I want to feel that I can support—”
She felt the magic departing.
“Never mind!” The tiniest of cuddling movements brought his arms tight around her again.
“Oh, sweetheart, sweetheart, you’re worth it!” he cried. “I’d wait for you!”
They were startled when they noticed the shadows under the trees. They had not dreamed it was so late. She smoothed her hair and pinned on her hat with trembling fingers, and they raced for the landing. The river was an empty stretch of dirty gray lapping dusky banks. There was no one at the landing.
“It must be way after five o’clock. I wish I had a watch. The boat couldn’t have gone by without our seeing it?” The suggestion drained the color from their cheeks. They looked at each other with wide eyes. “It couldn’t have possibly! Let’s ask.”
The little town was no more than half a dozen old wooden buildings facing the levee. A store, unlighted and locked, a harness shop, also locked, two dark warehouses, a saloon. She waited in the shadow of it while he went in to inquire. He came out almost immediately.
“No, the boat hasn’t gone. They don’t know when it’ll get here. No one there but a few Japanese.”
They walked uncertainly back to the landing and stood gazing at the darkening river. “I suppose there’s no knowing when it will get here? There’s no other way of getting back?”
“No, there’s no railroad. I have got you into a scrape!”
“It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault,” she hastened to say.
They walked up and down, waiting. Darkness came slowly down upon them. The river breeze grew colder. Stars appeared.
“Chilly?”
“A little,” she said through chattering teeth.
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her, despite her protests. They found a sheltered place on the bank and huddled together, shivering. A delicious sleepiness stole over her, and the lap-lap of the water, the whispering of the leaves, the warmth of Paul’s shoulder under her cheek, all became like a dream.
“Comfortable, dear?”
“Mmmmhuh,” she murmured. “You?”
“You bet your life!” She roused a little to meet his kiss. The night became dreamlike again.
“Helen?”
“What!”
“Seems to me we’ve been here a long time. What’ll we do? We can’t stay here till morning.”
“I don’t—know—why not. All night—under the stars—”
“But listen. What if the boat comes by and doesn’t stop? There isn’t any light.”
She sat up then, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes.
“Well, let’s make a fire. Got any matches?”
He always carried them, to light the switch-lamps in Ripley. They hunted dry branches and driftwood and coaxed a flickering blaze alive. “It’s like being stranded on a desert island!” she laughed. His eyes adored her, crouching with disheveled hair in the leaping yellow light. “You’re certainly game,” he said. “I—I think you’re the pluckiest girl in the world. And when I think what a fool I am to get you into this!”
There came like an echo down the river the hoarse whistle of the boat. A moment later it was upon them, looming white and gigantic, its lights cutting swaths in the darkness as it edged in to the landing. Struggling to straighten her hat, to tuck up her hair, to brush the sand from her skirt, Helen stumbled aboard with Paul’s hand steadying her.
The blaze of the salon lights hurt their eyes, but warmth and security relaxed tired muscles. The room was empty, its carpet swept, the velvet chairs neatly in place.
“Funny, I thought there’d be a lot of passengers,” Paul wondered aloud. He found a cushion, tucked it behind Helen’s head, and sat down beside her. “Well, we’re all right now. We’ll be in Sacramento pretty soon.”
“Don’t let’s think about it,” she said with quivering lips. “I hate to have it all end, such a lovely day. It’ll be such a long time—”
He held her hand tightly.
“Not so awfully long. I’m not going to stand for it.” He spoke firmly, but his eyes were troubled. She did not answer, and they sat looking at the future while the boat jolted on toward the moment of their parting.
“Damn being poor!” The word startled her as a blow would have done. Paul, so sincerely and humbly a church member—Paul swearing! He went on without a pause. “If I had a little money, if I only had a little money! What right has it got to make such a difference? Oh, Helen, you don’t know how I want you!”
“Paul, Paul dear, you mustn’t!” Her hand was crushed against his face, his shoulders shook. She drew his dear, tousled head against her shoulder.
“Don’t, dear, don’t! Please.”
He pushed away from her and got up. She let him go, shielding his embarrassment even from her own eyes. “I seem to be making a fool of myself generally,” he said shakily. He walked about the room, looking with an appearance of interest at the pictures on the walls. “It’s funny there aren’t more people on board,” he said conversationally after a while. “Well, I guess I’ll go see what time we get in.” He came back five minutes later, an odd expression on his face.
“Look here, Helen,” he said gruffly. “We won’t get in for
