There was a long rattle of thunder through the stillness.
“It’s the storm!” Isabel whispered. “He’s coming to see about the launch.”
Wrayford dropped noiselessly from the bench and she caught him by the arm.
“Isn’t there time to get up the path and slip under the shrubbery?”
“No, he’s in the path now. He’ll be here in two minutes. He’ll find us.”
He felt her hand tighten on his arm.
“You must go in the skiff, then. It’s the only way.”
“And let him find you? And hear my oars? Listen—there’s something I must say.”
She flung her arms about him and pressed her face to his.
“Isabel, just now I didn’t tell you everything. He’s ruined his mother—taken everything of hers too. And he’s got to tell her; it can’t be kept from her.”