"Very well; but not until Miss Beverly has seen the sails outside."
Pauline went forward and stood upon the upper step, steadying herself by the oarsman's proffered shoulder. The motion seemed stronger, now that she was on her feet.
"Hold harder," said Geof; "you won't enjoy it if you don't feel safe. There! That's right."
Over the line of the jetty was the deep blue Adriatic, sweeping to the horizon, its nearer reaches dotted with brilliant sails, shining in every shade of red and yellow and ruddy brown. The long, outer shore of the Lido, stretching far away to the tower of Malamocco, was edged with white, as the gentle curve of the waves broke with a toss of spray upon the sand.
"You like it?" Geof inquired, looking up into her face.
"It's as pretty as a tune," she said. "A tune with a lot of harmony to make it really sing. Do you know what I mean?"
"Perfectly," he answered.
Then, as she stepped down and went back to her seat: "I'm going home as passenger," he announced. "We shall have the tide with us and Pietro won't need my help."
"That's right," said Mrs. Daymond. "We want you over here."
The sun had got low enough to shine in under the flaps of the awning, and Geof lifted the canvas from its iron rods, and handed it over to Pietro, who stowed it away, rods and all, in the stern of the gondola. The world seemed to open up immensely bright and big, and the sky struck them with the force of a revelation.