“Sorry,” said Ratcliffe, raising himself on his arm; “but if you come again I’ll come with you, and that’ll keep the hants off—unless I’m gone.”
“How d’you mean?”
“Well, when this cruise is over I’ll have to leave you both and go home. I don’t want to go.”
Jude said nothing. Staring over the sea under the brim of her hat, she did not seem to have heard him.
“I’d much sooner stick on here with you and Satan. What’s that thing floating out there?”
“Turkle,” said Jude. “Look, he’s doing a dive!”
He sat up beside her.
“So he has. Well, he’s gone.” He sat with his knees up, looking over the sea.
Alone here with Jude she seemed a different person from what she had been aboard the Sarah. The strange antagonism she had suddenly exhibited, and a trace of which had remained up till this morning, seemed to have utterly vanished. Perhaps it was the “hants,” or the loneliness, or a combination of both, but she seemed subdued.
“Well, I don’t see what you want going for if you don’t want to,” suddenly said Jude, drawing up her knees and crossing them with her hands.