"I'm very glad to see you, certainly; but I don't think I can say I'm tired. It is a beautiful evening. Look at that glorious moon. We shall have a perfect sail home."
He hoisted the canvas, and they pushed off. In spite of the resolve he had just made it was vastly pleasant to be seated beside her, to feel the pressure of her warm soft body against his on the little seat. There was a fair breeze, and the water bubbling under the boat's sharp bows was like tinkling music as they swept from the shadow of the pier into the broad moonlight. Again, for want of something to do, she put her hand into the water; and the drops from her fingers when she lifted them shone like silver. As if in contradiction of her affected unconcern, she was palpably nervous. Once he could almost have sworn he felt her tremble.
"You are not cold, I hope?"
"Oh, dear, no! What could make you think so?"
"I thought I felt you shiver."
"It was nothing. I am perfectly warm."
"All the same I shall put this spare sail over your knees—so."
He took a piece of canvas from behind him, and spread it round her. She made no attempt at resistance. In spite of her show of independence, there was something infinitely pleasant to her in being thus tended and cared for by this great strong man.
In five minutes they were passing close under the nearest point of their own island. High cliffs rose above them, crowned with a wealth of vegetation. She looked up at them, and then turned to her companion.
"Mr. Ellison, do you know the story of that bluff?"