"What, then?"
"Only happy—PERFECTLY happy."
"Same here," he said, careless how he tempted Fate—"only more so."
Their lips met, and were holding that sweetest kiss of lovers that are man and wife, when a wave, driven by the wind, flung a shower of spray at them, giving each a playful slap of the face as a hint not to be too confident.
"Hadn't you better get inside?" he urged, as he wiped her cheek. "It'll be rougher still directly."
"Oh, no, it's splendid! The rougher the better. I'm so glad it's rough. I can't take any harm, so well wrapped up, and with you, my husband."
"Ah, Lil!" The hug he gave her in acknowledgment of the word made her gasp for breath. He was so carried away that he had to use both arms, whereby a lurch of the boat nearly unseated him. "Never," he declared, in an intense whisper—"never shall you come to harm, my precious one, while you've got me to protect you; I can promise you that."
"Dear," she returned, in the same kind of tone, "I know I never shall."
And she cuddled closer up to him, and he took a firmer grip of her. There was no rail for either to hold to, and drawing out from the shelter of the pier, and meeting the force of the southerly swell, the launch had begun to dance like a cork on boiling water.
"Why, there's quite a sea on," remarked Guthrie, with a laugh. "I hope it won't make you sea-sick."