Ah , and she loved him . She had never said so in words , but eyes and tones had said it -- she , Joan Shelley , the pick and pride of the Harbour girls , whom so many men had wooed , winning their trouble for their pains . He had won her ; she was his and his only , for the asking . His heart was seething with pride and triumph and passion as he strode down to the shore and flung himself on the cold sand in the black shadow of Michael Brown 's beached boat . Byron Lyall , a grizzled , elderly man , half farmer , half fisherman , and Maxwell Holmes , the Prospect schoolteacher , came up to the boat presently . Paul lay softly and listened to what they were saying . He was not troubled by any sense of dishonour . Honour was something Paul King could not lose since it was something he had never possessed . They were talking of him and Joan . `` What a shame that a girl like Joan Shelley should throw herself away on a man like that , '' Holmes said . Byron Lyall removed the pipe he was smoking and spat reflectively at his shadow . `` Darned shame , '' he agreed . `` That girl 's life will be ruined if she marries him , plum ' ruined , and marry him she will . He 's bewitched her -- darned if I can understand it . A dozen better men have wanted her -- Connor Mitchell for one . And he 's a honest , steady fellow with a good home to offer her . If King had left her alone , she 'd have taken Connor . She used to like him well enough . But that 's all over . She 's infatuated with King , the worthless scamp .
She 'll marry him and be sorry for it XXXXX her last day .
If as by for in on over since to with