"Mark… please God… you can't! I'm sorry… please… I'll make it up to you… you can't leave me here… you can't…"
"You're wrong my dear," he said quietly, "I can, and I will."
His face didn't soften as she broke down in soul-wracking sobs, crumpling on the bunk as though she might die from the panic twisting her body in a vise-like grip.
"I have plans for my life, sweet wife of mine," he continued in the same unemotional voice, "and after today, you could never fit in them. And I'm not even really very sorry about it."
He turned on his heel and began to climb the ladder leading out of the tension-charged cabin. He was stopped mid-way up by Harry's slick voice.
"Well, I'm sorry to see you go Mark. Very sorry. Especially as we didn't get a chance to discuss our little business deal."
Mark paused, and then turned his face to them, as they sprawled lasciviously before him in obscene nakedness. He looked one last time at his small wife's huddling form, totally unaware of Hans' huge hand as it began to caress her back soothingly, and then he turned back to Harry.
"Of course, Harry. The deal is still on. After all, that's what this trip was all about, wasn't it?"
He climbed the ladder quickly, and disappeared without another word into the hot brilliance of the scorching Caribbean sun.