They went along the sandy road lined with curious stunted trees to the quay. A full moon dominated a sky that blazed with stars. There was not even the tail-end of a cloud. The lazy sea plopped heavily against the stanchions and made the small craft wobble from side to side. Ropes creaked and quivered. There was hardly any wind. On the tip of the quay a girl was sitting with her head on a man's shoulder. One of his arms was round her waist. Their legs dangled over the edge. It was a night for love.
Beatrix said nothing for several minutes. She stood hatless, with her hands behind her back and her shoulders square. She looked dangerously young, Franklin thought, and far too precious to be unguarded. But with another look he corrected himself,—so young that her confidence was a better guard than an armed man. He wondered what she was thinking about.
"You've never had a sister, have you?" she asked suddenly.
"No," said Franklin.
"What a pity."
"Why?"
"She would have been a lucky girl."
"There you are," thought Franklin. "Nothing but a brother, you see."
She faced him unexpectedly. "What are you going to do with me now?"
He knew his answer but he made it, "What do you want me to do with you?"