"We shall get soaked!"
"Not a bit of it. On the other side of the island there is a handy little boat-house sort of place. We will put in there."
The boathouse was simply a little creek covered over with boards and capable of sheltering an ordinary rowing boat. Jimmy ran the canoe in just as the storm began, and turned her broadside on so that they could watch the rain, which was sweeping over the lake in sheets.
"Just in time," he said, shipping the paddle. "Snug in here, isn't it?"
"We should have got wet in another minute! I hope it won't last long."
"I hope it will, because I've got something very important to say to you, and I don't want to have to hurry it. Are you quite comfortable?"
"Yes, thanks."
"I don't know how to put it exactly. I mean, I don't want to offend you or anything. What I mean to say is—do you mind if I smoke? Thanks. I don't know why it is, but I always talk easier if I've got a cigarette going."
He rolled one with great deliberation and care. Molly watched him admiringly.
"You're the only man I've ever seen roll a cigarette properly, Jimmy," she said. "Everybody else leaves them all flabby at the ends."