Crashing across her trembling decision came Justin's demand.
"Look here. Why can't you fly with me now? Just a little way, low over the harbor? Come——"
It seemed to her that between them was beating and throbbing darkness, out of which his eager eyes said, "Come."
"Oh, no," she protested, with dry lips. "Anthony wouldn't like it."
"What has Anthony to do with it?" He had taken her hands in his and was crushing them. The rings cut and hurt, but she made no sign; she only looked at him large-eyed, and said, not knowing what she said, "He has nothing to do with it——"
"Then come——"
She was conscious that he was taking the pins out of her big hat. That he was winding her white chiffon veil, nun-like, about her head, so that her face was framed. And within this frame glowed her hot cheeks and questioning eyes.
"Come," he said, again, and lifted her to her seat and fastened her in, and took his place beside her. He whistled, and two men came, and the buoyant ship slid down the track toward the water; the big propeller waved for a moment its octopus arms, then started with a mighty roar.
For a moment they swam the surface, then, light as a bird, the "Gray Gull" soared.
Up and up, with the white yachts in the harbor just beneath them, with the gold of the sunshine surrounding them; and out of it his face bending down to her.