“Jus’ restin’ lil bit,” said Leila indifferently. “I’m jus’ restin’ and I’m not goin’ to leave Polly. I should shay not!”
And in assertion of her independence she began to whistle. She seemed greatly amused that her attempts to whistle were unsuccessful.
Millicent turned to Bruce. “If I could get her out of the boat I could put her in our car and take her home.”
“Surely!” he said and bent over quickly and lifted the girl from the launch, set her on her feet and steadied her. Millicent fumbled in the launch, found a bath wrapper and flung it about Leila’s shoulders. She guided her friend toward the long, low boathouse and turned a switch.
“I can manage now,” she said, gravely surveying Bruce in the glare of light. “I’m so sorry to have troubled you.”
She was tall and fair with markedly handsome brown eyes and a great wealth of fine-spun golden hair that escaped from her bathing cap and tumbled down upon her shoulders. Her dignity was in nowise diminished by her garb. She betrayed no agitation. Bruce felt that she was paying him the compliment of assuming that she was dealing with a gentleman who, having performed a service, would go his way and forget the whole affair. She drew her arm about the now passive Leila, who was much shorter—quite small, indeed, in comparison.
“Our car’s here and we’ll get dressed and drive back into town. Thank you so much and—good-night!”
“I was glad to help you;—good-night!”
The door closed upon them. Bruce made the launch fast to the landing and resumed his walk.