She gave him a swift, half-frightened glance. “No-o. I haven’t really had much time to think about it, you know.”
“Just now it came over me in a sort of wave. If you don’t object, I’ll call you ‘dear’ occasionally, simply to assure myself it’s true.”
“Whenever you like,” she returned politely.
“Dear!”
“Oh! That’s rather—pronounced, isn’t it?”
“Very well pronounced. Very pleasant to pronounce, in fact.”
She sat down trustfully beside him, a guiding hand on the wheel. “Do you know, Bob White, I’ve often thought it would be delightful to sail like this with a ra-ther good-looking—comrade?”
“Am I the man, may I ask?”
“You are.”
“Thank you—dear. And do you know that for the last two or three days I’ve been thinking I’d give my hope of salvation to sail like this with Betty Landis?”