“No-o-o! Not only that. It was the way he looked at me. On the yacht I’d often wondered if he really was nice, or if he was just pretending. Now he’d quit pretending, and he—he wasn’t nice at all. You can’t guess what he did?”
I held my breath; I felt sure that George did likewise.
“He—he made me—cook that—dinner! He did. He said that he wanted to see me in the rôle of a real woman. I thought I’d better do it, to keep the peace. He sat and watched me and talked. He said that that was as things should be; said I’d be a real woman in time. I wasn’t frightened, but it was—oh, thrilling, you know. Funny, too. I laughed a little at myself, because I’d always fancied I’d like to live the adventurous life, and here I had, and it wasn’t nice at all.”
“How come you weren’t frightened?” interrupted George.
“I don’t know; I wasn’t, though. Well, maybe I was once, when I asked him when we were going back to the yacht and he said for me to put the yacht out of my thoughts. Then I had a wild idea of making a sprint for the boat and getting away, but I remembered they’d pulled it up in the brush. Then I thought of running down the bay and swimming out to the yacht, but I knew I couldn’t outrun him and outswim him. It was dark then, too, and I knew some of you would soon be up looking for me.”
“You knew? How? You didn’t know that Gardy,” began George, but I cut him short.
“Of course,” I said. “It was certain that somebody would be up soon after dark since you didn’t return. Then what?”
“Then we sat down to eat. With tears and woe in my tones I must admit it, I wouldn’t like to subsist on my own cooking. But Captain Brack has a better appetite. He fairly reveled in the fruits of my labors. Then he become personal, and then—then you came in and everything was lovely.”
We paddled in silence for awhile.
“And so you were rather disappointed in cappy, Betty?” said George slowly.