Then he turned to the girl with a sneer:
"It might interest Jack Merrivale to hear of this pretty little romance of yours," he said.
The colour flamed in her cheeks.
"Tell him then!" she said defiantly.
"I think I must," said Fletcher. "He and I are such old friends."
He waited for her to tell him that it was on his account that they had quarrelled, but she would not so far gratify him, maintaining a stubborn silence till they drew alongside. Jacques rose to hand her on board.
"I hope you have enjoyed your row," he said courteously.
"Thanks!" she returned briefly, avoiding his eyes. "I think it is too hot to enjoy anything to-day."
The tea-kettle was singing merrily on the dainty brass spirit-lamp, and she sat down at the table forthwith.
Jacques stood beside her, silent and friendly as a tame mastiff. Perhaps his presence after what had just passed between herself and Fletcher made her nervous, or perhaps her thoughts were elsewhere and she forgot to be cautious. Whatever the cause, she took up the kettle carelessly and knocked it against the spirit-lamp with some force.