"Well it might!" I thought, for the rush and fall of the waves must be like a vast requiem to her.
"That is not the effect the sea has upon most people," I said.
"No, I suppose not; it has upon me," she answered. Then smiling at me as she went on: "You seem to think it is my fault, Mr. Ford, that I do not love the sea."
"It is your misfortune," I replied, and our eyes met.
I meant nothing by the words, but a shifting, curious look came into her face, and for the first time since I had been there her eyes fell before mine.
"I suppose it is," she said, quietly; but from the moment we were never quite the same again. She watched me curiously, and I knew it.
"Like or dislike, Frances, give way this time," said Lance, "and John will go with us."
"Do you really wish it?" she asked.
"I should like it; I think it would do us all good. And, after all, yours is but a fancy, Frances."
"If we go at all," she said, "let us go to the great Northern sea, not to the South, where it is smiling and treacherous."