“Yes, Jim Harvey. He has married the girl. The worst of it is she is far too good for him, and he will lead her a terrible life; but I suppose it is best. You saw her once at that picnic at Paradise that night I shot the horse. Do you remember?”
“I remember. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you knew. I thought that was what you meant—”
“No,” she answered. “I meant—never mind now what I meant.”
She put down her paddle.
“I am tired. You can paddle back,” she said wearily. “It is time to go home. Sylvia is coming to dinner, and so is Mr. George.”
She was kneeling in the bow with her back to him.
“Launa, will you move? You will be more comfortable if you do, and I will keep her steady,” he said. “We shall soon get back.”
“I cannot move, I am so tired.”
She almost gave a sob. Suddenly she felt impotent and weary. His explanation had made it worse, and she ached with the hopelessness of it all.