"No, no," was the reply, "I thought—I saw—"
"Not a snake?" Gwen drew her feet up under her.
"Dear me, no—I hope he'll not upset the coffee now that it is nearly ready."
"Is that all?" laughed Gwen. "You looked so serious I thought something tragic was about to happen. I am glad it was only anxiety about the coffee, though I admit it would be a tragedy to lose it now that we are yearning for it. Does anything give you such an appetite as a good sail? I shall expire with hunger, Mr. Williams, if I don't have a lobster claw pretty soon."
He broke off one, cracked it with a stone, and offered it to her. "There is a whole one waiting for you," he said.
"But I could never manage a whole one. I shouldn't dare attempt to dissect it. I should be sure to get some of those queer gray, whiskery things in my mouth."
"Then I'll do the dissecting," he promised. "As you may imagine, I am an old hand at the business."
"Twenty years it has been since you came to the island, hasn't it?" spoke up Miss Elliott.
"Very near," was the quiet reply.
"You must have been an enthusiastic fisherman in the first place," remarked Miss Elliott.