“You must be cold,” I said. “Aren't you?”
“No.”
“But you must be. Take the wheel a moment.”
“I am not cold.”
“Take the wheel.”
She took it. I groped about in the cuddy again, got out my storm coat, an old pea jacket which I wore on gunning expeditions, and brought it to her.
“Slip this on,” I said.
“I do not care for it.”
“Put it on.”
“Mr. Paine,” haughtily, “I tell you . . . . oh!”