There sat the bedraggled and dripping Crabb in three inches of water, his empty hands upon the gunwales, looking rather foolishly up at the blue eyes that were smiling rather whimsically down.
She could not resist the temptation to banter him. Had she prayed for vengeance, nothing could have been sent to her sweeter than this.
“You look rather—er—glum,” she said.
“I’m not,” he replied, calmly. “I’ve not been so happy in months.”
“What on earth is there to prevent my sailing off and leaving you?” she laughed.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’m all right. I’ll swim for the paddle when I’m rested.”
“Have you thought I might take that with me, too?” she asked sweetly.
“All right,” he laughed, trying to suppress the chattering teeth. “Somebody’ll be along presently.”
“Don’t be too sure. You’re really very much at my mercy.”
“You were not always so unkind.”