"You are busy now, of course. Still, if Ethel didn't know you so well she might be affronted." Malcolm spoke thoughtlessly, and the next moment was vexed with himself. He did not understand the exact position of affairs. Nigel's engagement to Fulvia, after years of apparent devotion to Ethel, had been a sore perplexity to him; but he did not know that there were reasons for Nigel's action which had not been told to him, yet which Ethel counted to have weight; and he had strong trust in his friend. Moreover, he could see, as every one could see, that Nigel was not happy. Malcolm's private belief was that Nigel cared too little for Fulvia, too much for Ethel; therefore, he regretted his own hasty words.
"How is Ethel?" asked Nigel, speaking with a manifest effort.
"Not so strong as she ought to be. We hoped more from Wales."
The two rowed on again, more slowly than before; or rather Nigel rowed, Malcolm having taken to steering. Nigel was buried in thought.
"We shall have to think of a change to some more bracing place, if she doesn't look up soon," observed Malcolm. "I don't like to see her as she is now."
A shrill scream rang out suddenly.
"What's that?" burst from both.
"Where from?" exclaimed Malcolm.
"Ahead!" And Nigel worked at the oars with vigour.
"Sure? I thought—"