'No, there is not.'
'Call me "mate," as you did when we were at the Decoy. How happy we were there, but then we were alone, that makes all the difference.'
George did not answer. Mehalah's hot blood began to fire her dark cheek.
'Tell me what you have got attached to that riband; if you love me, tell me, George. We girls are always inquisitive.'
'A keepsake, Phoebe.'
'A keepsake! Then I must see it.' She snatched at the riband where it showed above De Witt's blue jersey.
'I noticed it before, when you were so attentive at the Decoy.'
Mehalah interposed her arm, and placing her open hand on George's breast, thrust him out of the reach of the insolent flirt.
'For shame of you, how dare you behave thus!' she exclaimed.
'Oh dear!' cried Phoebe, 'I see it all. Your keepsake. How sentimental! Oh, George! I shall die of laughing.'