"Surely you aren't jealous of her?"
"Why shouldn't I be? You spend all your time with her."
He leaned over and laid his hand on hers. She was really distressed, and Jerry could not bear to have people unhappy.
"My dear girl," he began. Then, at an expression which dawned on her face, he turned to look behind him. Isabelle, her hair flying, her robe floating behind her, her bare feet stuck into little mules, flew across the deck to them, and, as Jerry rose, fled to his arms, sobbing.
"Oh, Jerry, Jerry. I can't bear it!"
"Look here, Cricket, what's the matter?" he said, embarrassed at the scene.
"You hate me! I'll kill myself, if you hate me."
"Rubbish! I don't hate you except when you make yourself a pest."
The sobbing increased.
"Don't cry like that, child."