“Do throw it overboard immediately,” he begged.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“But I entreat!”
Then she began to laugh.
“It isn’t the cigarette that I can’t manage,—it’s the throw!”
He sprang to his feet with one vast and comprehensive untuck.
“A thousand pardons! Give it to me.”
She held it out and he took it to the rail. The offshore breeze was growing into a wind that blew the stars out as fast as they appeared and caused the bosom of the ocean to appear unduly agitated.
“Let us walk about a bit,” he suggested, coming back, and noting a certain vagueness in her expression; “come, it’s the best thing for us both,—exercise, you know.”
She smiled faintly.