Would help come first ?--a distracting question to which definite answer could not be given.

The sailor's brow frowned in deep lines; his brain throbbed now with an anxiety singularly at variance with his cool demeanor during the fight.

He was utterly unconscious that his left arm encircled the shoulder of the girl until she gently disengaged herself and said appealingly-- "Please, Mr.Jenks, do not be angry with me.

I could not help it.

I could not bear to see you shoot them." Then he abruptly awoke to the realities of the moment.
"Come." he said, his drawn features relaxing into a wonderfully pleasing smile.