Dick began to laugh. "Dear, dear! How tragic! Never mind, darling! I daresay it's no one more important than a keeper, and we will see if we can enlist his sympathy."
He pulled a few swift strokes and the skiff glided up to the little landing-stage. He shipped the sculls, and held to the woodwork with one hand.
"Will you get ashore, dear, and I'll tie up. There's no one here, you see."
"No one that matters," said a laughing voice above him, and suddenly a man in a white yachting-suit, slim, dark, with a monkey-like activity of movement, stepped out from the spreading shadow of a beech.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Dick, startled.
"Hullo, sir! Delighted to meet you. Madam, will you take my hand?
Ah—et tu, Juliette! Delighted to meet you also."
He was bowing with one hand extended, the other on his heart. Juliet, still seated in the stern of the boat, had gone suddenly white to the lips.
She gasped a little, and in a moment forced a laugh that somehow sounded desperate. "Why, it is Charles Rex!" she said.
Dick's eyes came swiftly to her. "Who? Lord Saltash, isn't it? I thought so." His look flashed back to the man above him with something of a challenge. "You know this lady then?"
Two eyes—one black, one grey—looked down into his, answering the challenge with gay inconsequence. "Sir, I have that inestimable privilege. Juliette, will you not accept my hand?"