He bent forward and with one final magnificent sweep sent the nose of the dory out of the channel.
"Come on," he called, leaping to the beach.
"But—but, Hortie—I can't get ashore here. I'll wet my white shoes."
"Jump."
"It's too far. Pull the boat higher on the sand."
"Not on your life. Jump, darling! I'll catch you."
She stood up in the bow.
"I can't. It's too far."
"Nonsense! Where's your sporting blood? Don't be afraid. I'm right here."
"Suppose you shouldn't catch me?"