He saw a tinge of warmer colour creep into the girl’s cheeks.
“No,” she said decidedly. “It wouldn’t do.”
The man knitted his brows, though he fancied that she was right. “Well,” he replied, “I don’t want to be officious—but how can I help?”
“You can’t help at all.”
Vane, who saw that she meant it, lay smoking in silence for a minute or two. Then Carroll came up with Mrs. Marvin and the child, and he felt strongly stirred when the little girl walked up to him shyly with a basket filled with shells. He drew her down beside him, with an arm about her waist, while he examined her treasures, and then glancing up met Kitty’s eyes and felt his face grow hot with an emotion he failed to analyse. The child was delicate; life had scanty pleasure to offer her, but now she was happy.
“They’re so pretty, and there are lots of them,” she said. “Can’t we stay here longer and gather some more?”
“Yes,” said Vane, conscious that Carroll, who had heard the question, was watching him. “You shall stay and get as many as you want. I’m afraid you don’t like the sloop.”
“No,” replied the child gravely, “I don’t like it when it jumps. After I woke up it jumped all the time.”
“Never mind,” said Vane. “The boat will keep still to-night, and I don’t think there’ll be any waves to roll her about to-morrow. We’ll bring you ashore first thing in the morning.”
He talked to her for a few minutes, and then strolled along the beach with Carroll.