“You’ll have to square me with Felicia,” I muttered.
Laughingly Lydia Massingbyrd made a rope of her hair, to keep it safe from the water, that she might the better blind the poor wretches in the boat with its radiance. So carry her I did. As we were well out in the water I heard the snap of Almington’s camera.
“Won’t Felicia be in a wax?” the incorrigible woman giggled in my ear.
“It’s lucky for you it’s me,” I said to her, critically. “Even as it is, it’s most imprudent!”
She looked at me, an impudent gleam in her eye.
“I’m mighty careful in choosing my company when I’m cast away on a desert island,” said she.
II.
“I don’t understand women at all,” I rather rashly confessed to Felicia.
“That’s all the better for us—I mean for me,” she threw back at me.
“But I do understand you’re all a matchmaking lot,” I continued, severely.