“To get home as soon as possible,” she replied, without the pause of a second.
Her tone was expressive. It conveyed to him the notion that she had just asked if he thought that she was an idiot. What could she want to do if not to go home?
“In that case,” said he, “I should advise you to take the oar to the sculling place in the centre of the stern. The boat is a stout one and will scull well.”
“But I don’t know how to scull,” said she, in a tone of real distress; “and I don’t think I can begin to learn just now.”
“There’s something in that,” said he. “If I were only aboard I could teach you in a short time.”
“But—”
She had begun her reply without the delay of a second, but she did not get beyond the one word. He felt that she did not need to do so: it was a sentence by itself.
“Yes,” said he, “as you say, I’m not aboard. Shall I get aboard?”
“How could you?” she inquired, brightening up.
“I can swim,” he replied.