“Surely it is not as serious as that?” Roddy objected.
“Quite,” returned the girl. “To them, what I am doing now is unpardonable. But I was afraid to write you. A letter may sound so harsh, it can be so easily misread. I did not wish to offend you, so I risked seeing you this way—for the last time.”
“For the last time,” repeated Roddy.
Inez made a movement to go.
“Wait!” he commanded. “Do you come often to this place?”
“Yes,” said the girl, and then, answering the possible thought back of the question, she added: “My mother and sister come here with me every evening—for the sake of the harbor breeze—at least we used to do so. Why?” she demanded.
In her voice was a note of warning.
“I was thinking,” said Roddy, “I could row past here in my boat, far out, where no one could see me. But I could see you.”
Inez gave a quick sigh of exasperation.
“You will not understand!” she exclaimed. “Why,” she demanded, “after all I have told you, after my taking this risk to make it plain to you that you must not see me, do you still persist?”