Maude uttered a faint cry and leant forward, and Stafford, fearing she was going to rise, stretched out his hand, and touching her knee, forced her into her seat again, and kept her there until the swell had subsided.
The colour flooded her face at the pressure of his strong hand, which was like a steel weight, and she caught her breath. Then, as he took his hand away and resumed rowing, he said: "I beg your pardon! I was afraid you were going to get up—a girl I once had in a boat did so and we upset."
"The boat is very small," she said, in a low voice, almost one of apology.
"Oh, it's all right, so long as you sit still, and keep your head," he said. "It could ride over twice as big a swell as this."
She looked at him from under her lowered lids with a new expression in her face, a faint tremor on her lips; and, as if she could not meet his eyes, she glanced back with an affectation of interest at the steamer. As she did so, something dropped from it into the lake.
"What was that?" she said. "Something fell overboard."
"Eh? A man, do you mean?" he asked, stopping.
"Oh, no; something small."
"A parcel, somebody's lunch, perhaps," he said; and he rowed on.
She leant back, her eyes downcast; she still seemed to feel that strong, irresistible pressure of his hand under which she had been unable to move.