Morris hesitated, for this was a new view of the case, before he answered.
“That your life should be saved, I suppose.”
“And why should it happen that your boat should come to save me?”
“I don’t know; chance, I suppose.”
“Neither do I; but I don’t believe in chance. Everything has its meaning and purpose.”
“Only one so seldom finds it out. Life is too short, I suppose,” replied Morris.
By now the sail was up, the boat was drawing ahead, and he was seated at her side holding the tiller.
“Why did you go down into the saloon, Miss Fregelius?” he asked presently.
She glanced at herself, and now, for the first time, he noticed that she wore a dress beneath her red cloak, and that there were slippers on her feet, which had been bare.
“I could not come into the boat as I was,” she explained, dropping her eyes. “The costume which is good enough to be drowned in is not fitted for company. My cabin was well forward, and I guessed that by wading I could reach it. Also, I had some trinkets and one or two books I did not wish to lose,” and she nodded at the hand-bag which she had thrown into the boat.