"
A desire to have the faith that was in her supported by this man's
own word overrode her shyness.
"Mr. Beetle Man," she said, "have you got a sister?"
"I? No. Why?"
"If you had a sister, is there anything--Oh, DARN your sister!"
broke forth the irrepressible Polly. "I'll be your sister for
this. Is there anything about you and your life here that you'd be
afraid to tell me?"
"No."
"I knew there wasn't," she said contentedly. She hesitated a
moment, then put a hand on his arm. "Does this HAVE to be good-
bye, Mr. Beetle Man?" she said wistfully.
"I'm afraid so."
"No!" She stamped imperiously. "I want to see you again, and I'm
going to see you again. Won't you come down to the port and bring
me another bunch of your mountain orchids when we sail--just for
good-bye?"
Through the dull medium of the glasses she could feel his eyes
questioning hers. And she knew that once more before she sailed
away, she must look into those eyes, in all their clarity and all
their strength--and then try to forget them. The swift color ran
up into her cheeks.
"I--I suppose so," he said.
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