“It’s in the pocket of my sweater. You must be feeling better. Here, sit up and drink this.”
She raised herself warily on an elbow and drank the brandy he had poured into the silver cup of his flask—a present from a grateful patient.
She fell back again, but only for a moment. A swift wriggling movement and she was sitting erect at her end of the boat.
“More beastly materialism,” she muttered. “Why couldn’t I have come all right by myself?” She stared at him resentfully, then gave a short laugh like a bark.
“God! How romantic!”
“We don’t need romance, my dear.”
She sighed, laced her fingers, and stared at the bottom of the boat. Then she looked up at him and smiled. He caught his breath. A wavering dazed smile, that passed from her lips and melted in her eyes.
“It’s all over—the resentment,” she said shyly. “And I’m glad—very glad——”
“We land in a moment. Can you drive a car?”
“Why—yes. Pretty well. Polly—and—others—have taught me.”