"What a fool I'd be to let you go!" he added reflectively. "And—not to flatter myself—what a fool you'd be to miss a chance like this! We've just got to know each other's ways; we're like wheels in the same clock. I need you; you need me.
"I'll admit you don't have to earn your living. But think of the fun you miss when you don't! It gets mighty tiresome, standing on the outside and looking in. What you and I need, ma'am, is excitement—plenty of action—something to keep us on edge.
"You're what I call an emergency pal. You don't really begin to get good until you're in a scrape. It takes trouble to start you going. But when you do get started—if you don't mind my saying it, ma'am—you go to it like the cat to the canary."
She scarcely heard his last words; her mind was intent on seeking some avenue of escape. Tentatively, she edged toward the path that led to the boat-landing. But the boatman understood and shook his head.
"When we go, we go together," he assured her. "That dress you're wearing looks all right. Whatever you need in the line of clothes we can get when we hit the mainland.
"As far as I'm concerned, all I have to do is to put on my hat. And that's down in the boat, I think; if it isn't, it doesn't matter. We'll start, I guess."
He turned toward the path and beckoned.
"I refuse to stir a foot!" exclaimed Rosalind.
She compressed her lips.
"That means carrying you, then, ma'am."