“Never mind the tiller, Vic,” said Harry; “let it swing. We can manage without that. All right, girls?”
There was no reply.
“Sulky, eh? Well, I’d a good mind to stop in. Sorry you got so wet, Leslie.” Still no reply.
“Cheerful party, ’pon my word!” said Harry with a contemptuous laugh. “Hope no one objects to my smoking.”
He looked hard at Madelaine, but she avoided his gaze, and he uttered a short laugh.
“Got a cigar to spare, Vic?”
“Yes, clear boy, certainly.”
“Pass it along then, and the lights. Hold hard a minute, Leslie.”
The latter ceased rowing as Pradelle handed a cigar and the matches to his friend.
“Will you take one, Mr Leslie?” said Pradelle.