"Excuse me—you began by saying that you'd liked Brinsley—liked him awfully, you said. It must have been awful—anything connected with Brinsley is necessarily awful."
"There you go again. Don't bolt so—it makes bad running. I told you why I'd liked him so much at first, and you admitted that it was natural. Do you remember that? Well—that isn't all. After I liked him, I began to care for him. I told you that, too. Horrid of me, wasn't it?"
"Horrid!"
"I wish you wouldn't agree with me all the time!" exclaimed Fanny, impatiently. "You know I really did care—a little. And then one day in the catboat, he asked me—" She stopped and looked at Lawrence.
"To marry you? Why don't you say it? It wouldn't surprise me a bit."
"No," said Fanny, slowly, "he didn't ask me to marry him."
"In Heaven's name, what did he ask you?" enquired Lawrence, exasperated to impatience.
"Oh—I don't know. It was something about the channel between Bar and Sheep, I believe. Nothing very important, anyway. I'm not sure that I could remember, if I tried."
"Then—excuse me, but what's the point?"
"Oh—I know!" exclaimed Fanny, as though suddenly recollecting something. "Not that it matters much, but I like to be accurate. It was about the bell buoy off Sheep Porcupine. You know, I showed it to you the other day. Well—I told him how it had been carried away in a storm some time ago, and that this was a new one. And the next day I heard him telling Augusta all about it, as though he had known before, you see."