“Let me see,” said she. “Wouldn’t the best way be for girl number one to look with friendly eyes on him herself?”
Harold lay back on his chair and laughed at first; then he gazed at her in wonder.
“You are cleverer than Edmund Airey and Helen Craven when they combine their wisdom,” said he. “Your woman’s instinct is worth more than their experience.”
“I never knew what the instincts of a woman were before this morning,” said she. “I never felt that I had any need to exercise the instinct of defence. I suppose the young seal, though it has never been in the water, jumps in by instinct should it be attacked. Oh, yes, I dare say I could swim as well as most girls of my age.”
It was only when he had returned to his rooms that he fully comprehended the force of her parable of the young seal.
CHAPTER XLI.—ON DRY CHAMPAGNE AND A CRISIS.
THE next morning Archie drove one of his many machines round to Harold’s rooms and broke in upon him before he had finished his breakfast.
“Hallo, my tarty chip,” cried Archie; “what’s the meaning of this?”