She arose, and for a moment, weakly leaned against the tree.
"Let me help you," he said gently.
She allowed him to assist her into the boat.
When he had rearranged her cushions, and seen that she was comfortably seated, he took the oars and started the boat quickly.
A feeling of intense shame kept her face averted. Neither spoke for some time.
The setting sun was entirely hid by heavy ominous clouds. Small ones were gathering from every direction.
"I hope we get ahead of this storm," remarked George anxiously. "These mountain lakes are so treacherous."
Suddenly, little ripples and currents appeared upon the glassy surface of the lake. They were about a quarter of a mile from the shore.
George stopped rowing and scanned the heavens intently.
"We must make for shelter until this is over," he said decisively. "See! There is an apology of a log cabin over there. It will protect us from the rain, anyway."