This was awkward. It could not be evaded though. "It's your boat," said Pen, smiling.
"Yours for this trip."
"Charmed to have you," said Pen. "... But you can't look over my shoulder when I'm making my poor little purchases."
"I'll wait in the boat for you."
The slim mahogany tender which lay alongside had cost as much as many a well-to-do man's cruiser. Nothing like her had ever cleaved the waters of the Pocomico. She had the speed of a railway train. Pen was handed in to a little sheltered nook in the stern. Riever sank down beside her and they were off with a leap, throwing a wall of water back from either side of the bow.
But Pen was oblivious to their passage. Her glance was far withdrawn.
"What are you thinking about?" asked Riever.
"My shopping," she answered instantly. "It's quite a problem. There's so little to choose from in the Island stores."
"Wouldn't you like to go up to Baltimore for a day?" he asked.
This was what Pen had been angling for. "I might like it," she said, "but..." she finished with a shrug.