"And yet I'm not Lord Maxwell."
"Oh, please don't!"
"Prudence, give me your hand."
The girl's hand, cold as an icicle, was reached towards him, and was instantly crushed in his. He must still hold the tiller with his other hand, must still think of his boat.
"Prudence—"he hesitated.
He heard her whisper, "Rodney—"
Then he cried, "Why did you do such a damnable thing? Why? Why? We might have been two years man and wife."
At first she made no reply. He felt her shiver, then draw nearer to him.
The wind drove a blast towards them, and then all at once grew more gentle.
"I was mad to do it," she said, "and now I am punished,—punished cruelly,—and I shall suffer all my life. But you're going to be happy. I'm glad of that."