Gladys gasped and glanced at him with swift suspicion that he was jesting. He returned her glance in a calm, matter-of-fact way. She leaned back in her chair and they watched the slippery rail slide up and down against the background of chilly, rainy sea and sky.
"Are you asleep?" he asked after a long silence.
"No," she replied. "I was thinking."
"Of my—proposition?"
"Yes."
"Doesn't it grow on you?"
"Yes."
He shifted himself to a sitting position with much deliberateness. He put his hand in among her rugs and wraps until it touched hers. "It may turn out better than you anticipate," he said, a little sentiment in his eyes and smile, a little raillery in his voice.
"I doubt if it will," she answered, without looking at him directly. "For—I—anticipate a great deal."