"Not just yet, Bob," I replied, fearful that a change of our course would increase her agitation.
"I am very much obliged to you for what you have done for me," said the dripping maiden, who paid not the slightest attention to the condition of her clothing, and was wholly absorbed in her own thoughts, which were painful enough to give her face an expression of agony. "I hope you will not think I am ungrateful, Ernest Thornton."
"I do not think so," I replied, astonished to find she knew my name.
"And I shall be ever so much more grateful to you if you will take me away from this place," she added, with a beseeching look.
"I really don't know what to do. You called me by name, just now, but I do not remember to have seen you before."
"Perhaps you have not; but I have seen your boat so often that I feel acquainted with you."
"May I ask you to tell me your name?"
"I will tell you, but you will not know me any better. It is Kate Loraine," she replied, more calmly than she had yet spoken.
I was certainly no wiser for what she told me, though I knew that Loraine was the name of the people who lived in the house nearest to the Point.
"Who is the lady on the pier?" I asked.