"It's not. You must break it off to-day."
She shook her head. Her fingers still dabbled mechanically in the water. The sun was hidden now behind a gray veil, which deepened into a sullen black over the hill behind the castle. The heat had grown more oppressive, with a threat of coming storm.
"What made you do it?" he asked again.
"Don't let's talk about it ... Please!"
He had a momentary glimpse of her face. There were tears in her eyes. At the sight, his self-control snapped.
"You sha'n't," he cried. "It's ghastly. I won't let you. You must understand now. You must know what you are to me. Do you think I shall let you—?"
A low growl of thunder rumbled through the stillness, like the muttering of a sleepy giant. The black cloud that had hung over the hill had crept closer. The heat was stifling. In the middle of the lake, some fifty yards distant, lay the island, cool and mysterious in the gathering darkness.
Jimmy broke off, and seized the paddle.
On this side of the island was a boathouse, a little creek covered over with boards and capable of sheltering an ordinary rowboat. He 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.
He began to speak again, more slowly now.