“I was waiting for you to move from my place,” she said in defiant mischief, standing motionless beside the boat.
“Your place? Ah, yes; now,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “will you step in?”
She took his hand and stepped in; they were both standing, and as the little bark swayed he made a movement to catch hold of her.
“You had better sit down,” he said, motioning to the rower’s seat.
“And you?” she asked.
“I shall sit beside you and use the other oar,” he answered nonchalantly, smiling down at her.
With a half-pleased feeling of discomfiture Ruth seated herself in the stern, whereupon Kemp sat in the contested throne.
“You will have to excuse my turning my back on you, Mrs. Levice,” he said pleasantly.
“That is no hindrance to my volubility, I am glad to say; a back is not very inspiring or expressive, but Ruth can tell me when you look bored if I wax too discursive.”
It was a tiny boat; and seated thus, Kemp’s knees were not half a foot from Ruth’s white gown.