“I thought you liked a weed,” said Harry, carelessly.
“My likings or my dislikings must be matter of perfect indifference to you, Sir, or I should not be wet to the skin and shivering as I am now.”
“Take a go of brandy, and you’ll be all right,” said Harry, throwing his flask to him.
Though not very graciously offered, M’Kinlay accepted the dram, and then looked over the side towards the shore with an air of greater contentment. “Considering, Sir, that I came here to-day on your account, I think I might have been treated with somewhat more deference to my tastes,” said he, at last.
“On my account? And in what way on my account?”
“If we are not likely to have any more storms of wind, I can perhaps tell you.”
“No, no, it’s still as a fishpond here. Go on.”
“Before I go on—before I even begin, Mr. Luttrelle I must have your promise that you will not mention to any one what shall pass between us to-day. It is on a subject which concerns you—but still concerns others more nearly.”
“All right. I’ll not speak of it.”
“You will give me your word?”