"Ay! ay! my Lord, it's blowing hard round the headland. You'll have to keep her well away. Shall we take you up?"
Lord Lumley shook his head.
"You would not prefer the yacht?" he asked, turning to me.
"I like this best," I answered. "It is more exciting."
"We'll stick to the skiff, Dyson," Lord Lumley called out.
The man looked doubtful; but while he hesitated, we shot far ahead, so that his voice only reached us faintly.
"There's a heavy sea running, my Lord, and it'll blow great guns before night."
"Are you nervous, Margharita?" he asked tenderly.
"Not in the least," I answered, carelessly wiping the spray from my face. "I like it, and hope it will be rougher."
"Can't say that I do," he laughed. "What a plucky girl you are. Now that we're in a quieter sea, I think that I may venture to come and talk to you."