“You’d move a heart of stone, but mine’s a diamond. You’re always charming—I admit that freely—but I can’t consider that in this particular situation. No, no. ‘Off with your head; so much for Bolingbroke.’” He braced the wheel against his knee and began to haul in the sheet.
“You’re going back?”
“Yes.”
“To put me ashore?”
“Right, my lady.”
“Then you intend to sail off again to—to do what you like?”
“Humanly speaking, yes.”
In spite of the heeling deck she rose abruptly, her eyes wide and resolute.
“Mr. Fessenden, I’m going with you this afternoon, wherever you go. If you take me back to the landing, I won’t go on shore. You’ll have to use force, and I warn you I’ll resist, and I’m strong for a woman. I solemnly vow I’ll make a dreadful scene. And I’ll scream, and I can scream hideously!”
Her words were utterly convincing. He let go the sheet and stared. “By Jove! you are a terror. What in the world is all this about?”