He felt he must see Mary for a moment and speak to her. He left the
cluster of men on the dune and hurried to the house.
He found her on the rug in the east living room. One or two of the crew
were warming their hands and swallowing hot coffee in the other large
room. The men came over, not more than two at a time, at intervals, to
get thawed out.
“Tom,” he said, “has gone off in the buoy.”
“I know,” she answered. “I saw someone being hauled out and I knew it
must be he.”
He hesitated, then told her.
“The worst of it is, I must go on the next trip. He practically asked
me to. And I said I would.”
At that for the first time in all her life, so far as he could
remember, she seemed panicky and likely, for an instant, to collapse.
He stepped hurriedly toward her but she had got hold of herself and
made a gesture to keep him away.
“No, no! I’m all right.” But she let John, who had approached them,
bring her a chair and she leaned on it. The boy kept near them,
regarding them silently. His gray eyes were inscrutable but the look he
gave his mother was one of sympathy, and Dick Hand thought that there
was confidence in the glance that was directed at himself. It somehow
came over Dick that this boy was a big factor in all their lives,
potentially at least. If Tommy and himself did not come back----
Mary Vanton was calm and self-reliant again. She motioned to Richard
Hand that he had better drink some coffee. He took the hand she offered
him, waved to John, and hurried into the other room, impatiently
swallowing the coffee and going out the door with the two other men.