"No, of course not." Dot spoke with comforting certainty. "They would clamber on to the island if the tide was high; but it is so terrifying in the dark. And it was our fault—Susie didn't want to come."
"It was a pity," said Mrs. Beauchamp.
Her eyes, over Dot's dishevelled head, flew to the doorway, and met those other alert eyes that understood and answered their question. When did a woman in distress ever appeal in vain to the Royal Navy?
"I'll get my boat out, and be ready in a quarter of an hour," he said. "You can meet me by the steps, lady, and you'd best bide in shelter as long as you can."
"Thank you. Can you?—is it possible? Those men said I must wait till daylight."
"Lubberly loafers," said the Royal Navy. "In the Service things are ordered different."
He opened the door and went out. Through the opening Mrs. Beauchamp caught a glimpse of sailing clouds and starlight.
Dot was pressing on her again.
"Please forgive us if Susie gets home; it has been so miserable. I knew Dash wasn't asleep because of his breathing. It has been dreadful for you and for Susie, but it is worse for us."
Her voice fell to a husky whisper; her great black eyes were full of passionate entreaty; she shivered in her thin nightdress.