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bottom step, he was at the top. His voice tore at the darkness. “Come back here, damn you!”
    She ran headlong through the uncut grass that was a wet tangle around her feet. Those feet were sure and swift, and they needed to be, with another pair thudding behind them. One misstep, one stumble to bring her to her knees in the uneven path—don’t think of that! she warned herself. Escape was the thing.
    Somehow she reached the clubhouse porch, and he stopped out in the dark lane. She went into the poolroom, making herself move slowly as if there were no reason for hurry, stifling her aching breath. She was thankful for the shadow outside the boundaries of the table, and for the intentness with which the boys played. Owen was making a shot, and Hugo looked on. It was Nils who looked up at her and nodded. He had come after she left; he knew, then, that she hadn’t gone to see his sister. She stood against the door and felt her body burn with shame under his level blue glance.
    â€œKristi gone to bed?” Owen said over his shoulder. “Time you went home, it’s way after nine.”
    â€œI’ll wait for you,” she said.
    â€œYou will like hell! I don’t want the old man on my neck for keeping you out. He doesn’t think much of you being on my coattails all the time, anyway.”
    He turned back to the table and the game went on. Joanna felt wave after wave of nausea assault her stomach. The shadows in the lane were thick, and it didn’t do to madden a man as she’d maddened Simon tonight. Sooner or later they pay up , he’d said. She’d heard enough about him around the shore. . . . But I didn’t know how it would be! she thought wildly. I didn’t know that was the way you felt! She sat down on a bench against the wall, her sweaty fingers clamped on the rough edge.
    Nils leaned over the table, his hair silver-blond in the light. His cue moved like a serpent striking, and Hugo whistled softly. “Not bad,” Owen conceded. Nils grinned, and put his cue in the rack.
    â€œCome on, Jo, I’ll walk you home.”
    â€œCripes almighty, hasn’t she gone yet? ” Owen scowled at her. “What’s eating you? Scared of the dark?”
    â€œLook,” said Nils in easy good humor. “Everybody’s scared of something. My grampa’s afraid of the fairies, and I’ve seen you lay back your ears at three lights in a room. And girls don’t like rammin’ around alone in the dark. I thought you knew all about women, Cap’n Owen.”
    They went out, Joanna torn between relief and shame. But the relief won out, for the lane was filled with an almost impenetrable darkness, and there were rustling sounds under the trees. They turned at the end of Gunnar’s spruces, and as they passed the well, Nils said casually, “What do you want to fool around with that low-life bastard for?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Something leaped in her with shamed terror.
    â€œSimon Bird. He was there in the trees—lit out for home when he saw me.”
    â€œI don’t fool around with him!”
    â€œThen what are you scared of? O. K., Jo. I know you don’t fool around with him. I’d have heard it around the shore before this. But you thought you’d tinker with a little fire. Is that it?”
    â€œ No! ” To her horror, tears shook her voice. “I hate him! He’s like a devil!”
    â€œWell, don’t tell the whole Island, darlin’ mine,” said Nils mildly. His arm was snug and solid around her shoulders. “I’m damn glad you found out what he is. You know, kid, I’d hate like hell to hear your name come out of that mouth of his down around the shore some day. I’d feel like grinding his face so hard into the beach rocks he’d look like a dead cod the gulls’d been at. Not to mention what your brothers’d do to him.” He chuckled.