"Yes—a creek. It takes you, I believe—I have never been so far as that—to Eustis Landing, a pier on the St. John's beyond ours."
"If we try to go back we shall have to go through that damnable aisle of miasma again."
"Perhaps I should not faint this time," she said, humbly.
"You don't know whether you would or not; I can't take any risks."
He spoke with bluntness. She sat looking at him; her eyes had a pathetic expression, her womanish fears and her fatigue had relaxed her usual guard.
"You think I'm rough. Let me be rough while I can, Margaret!"
He sent the boat forward towards the outlet, not back through the aisle of flowers. "We'll go on," he said.
After a while she called her husband's name again.
"What's the use of doing that?" he asked. "He isn't here."
"Oh, but I am sure he is. Where else could he be?"