"Can you suggest anything else?"
She looked dubiously at the intervening black mud, and was silent.
"I could go up to the hotel and bring Mr. Merriweather and Mr. Hackley."
She turned away to hide her tears.
"Or I could go after a brawny boatman; but delay is serious, for the tide is running out fast and the stretch of mud growing wider. Can you not imagine me Mike or Tim, or some fellow of that sort."
"No, I can't."
"Then perhaps you wish me to go for Mike or Tim?"
"But the tide is running out so fast, you said."
"Yes, and it will soon be dark."
"Oh, dear!" and there was distress in her tones.