"It iss only my hat and my box," she said quickly.
"Eh? Oh!—--" He laughed. "I only mean there'll be brakes and wagonettes all over the place now, and anybody might come to the lake.—I say, you didn't think I meant to chuck you out, did you?"
"I thought prapss you want to fiss," she replied, turning away and looking at the gasogene of black water again.
He laughed again.—"Oh, no. I mean you don't sleep there, and nobody'd come here, and I could get you a lock and key so that your things would be safe. You could go there if it rained."
She tossed the snail-shell into the water, neither accepting his offer nor rejecting it.
"Besides," he went on, "I know that if anybody disturbed you you'd be off. Look here. I'll get you that lock and key. I'm off back to-night, and I'll bring 'em up to-morrow.—But you will be here won't you?"
Again—he could not be sure—he fancied her colour deepened.
"Hwhere should I go to?" she said over her shoulder.
"Well—anywhere—Liverpool—anywhere."
And again her reply was to gaze at the boiling of the air-bubbles at the foot of the fall.