Morris smiled. “It is very nice of you to pay so much respect to appearances,” he said; “but I suppose you forgot that the vessel might come off the rocks at any moment and crush me, who was waiting.”
“Oh, no,” she answered; “I thought of it. I have always been accustomed to the sea, and know about such things.”
“And still you went for your dress and your trinkets?”
“Yes, because I was certain that it wouldn’t happen and that no harm would come to either of us by waiting a few minutes.”
“Indeed, and who told you that?”
“I don’t know, but from the moment that I saw you in the boat I was certain that the danger was done with—at least, the immediate danger,” she added.
CHAPTER IX.
MISS FREGELIUS
While Miss Fregelius was speaking, Morris had been staring at the sail, which, after drawing for a time in an indifferent fashion, had begun to flap aimlessly.
“What is the matter?” asked his companion. “Has the wind veered again?”
He nodded. “Dead from the west, now, and rising fast. I hope that your spirit of prophecy still speaks smooth things, for, upon my word, I believe we are both of us in a worse mess than ever.”