“And what are you, then, I should like to know?” she answered, with dignity.
“I! I am an old fellow playing the fool.”
Suddenly his gayety had evaporated, and he was conscious of his years. He let the boat drift for a moment.
“Check me another time, Vere, if you see me inclined to be buffo,” he said.
“Indeed I won’t. Why should I? I like you best when you are quite natural.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. Look! There are the lights! Oh, how strange they are. Go a little nearer, but not too near.”
“Tell me, then. Remember, I can’t see.”
“Yes. One, two, three—”
She counted. Each time she said a number he pulled. And she, like a little coxswain, bent towards him with each word, giving him a bodily signal for the stroke. Presently she stretched out her hand.