“It was blowing you straight out to sea,” observed Bayard quietly.
“Shall I take the oars?” he added.
She pulled on doggedly for a few moments. Suddenly she flung them down.
“Why, we are not making any headway at all! We are twisting about, and—going out again.”
“Certainly.”
“It is that heavy dory! You can’t expect me to row two boats at once.”
“The dory does make some difference. But very little. See—she doesn’t draw a teaspoonful of water. Shall I take the oars?”
“If you please,” said Helen meekly.
She gave them up without looking at him, and she was a trifle pale from her exertion. Her hat was off, and the wind made rich havoc of her pretty hair. She was splashed with spray, and her boating-dress was quite wet. Bayard watched her. The sun dropped, and the color on the harbor began to fade.
“I suppose you came for the report?” she asked suddenly. “I stayed in all the afternoon. I couldn’t be expected to wait indefinitely, you know!”