CHAPTER 7SHE was restless; she knew how Con must have felt the night that Barjon Garth left, the night that things were scheduled to begin. She couldn’t sit quietly, although every step creaking the floor stretched her already tight nerves. She drank a glass of milk; the thought of food was leaden. Slow gray covered the nervous sea. The knock came. Her mouth was dusty as she hurried through the unlighted room.
It wasn’t Con in the dusk outside. She wasn’t quite certain who it was until he entered, closed the door after him. And then she saw with wonderment the uniform, the tired face of Walker Travis above it.
“Is Con here yet?” he asked.
She said, “No,” and the weariness changed to anxiety.
“He isn’t?” Surely he knew. “He told me to come here.”
“When did he tell you that? When did yo
