“What! Again, Helena? Have I not tried that and found it a failure?”
“You have no courage. You are no pirate. I challenge you to a test.”
“What is it, Helena?”
“Let us go up-town and have a little supper at Luigi’s, the way we used to, Harry, when we really were friends.”
“What, with Cal Davidson loose in the town and his boat lying here?”
“That is the adventure!”
“You would turn me over to the authorities?”
“No, but I would sell my parole for a mess of woodcock, Harry.” She laid a hand upon my arm. “I can’t tell you how much I want a little supper at Luigi’s, Harry. I like the Chianti there. Between us we could afford thirty cents a bottle, could we not? Now, if I gave my parole—and of course, every one would be here at the boat just the same—But of course, I did not expect you would.”
“Why did you not?”
“Because it is an adventure, because it will take something of real courage, I fancy, to meet a risk like that!”