“Hasn't done it?” she repeated. “You mean—why, this boat cannot go without gasolene, can it?”
“Not very well; no.”
“Then—then what are we going to do?”
“Anchor and wait, if I can.”
“Wait! But I don't wish to wait. I wish to be taken home, at once.”
“I am sorry, but I am afraid that is impossible.”
I was on my way forward to where the anchor lay, in the bow. She rose and stepped in front of me.
“Mr. Paine.”
“Yes, Miss Colton.”
“I tell you I do not wish you to anchor this boat.”