Dick smiled amiably. He delighted in a skirmish.
‘Am I to go back to London to-morrow morning, or am I not? That’s the question.’
‘Really, Mr Dulcimer, or Mr Golightly, or whatever your name may be, I am at a loss to know why you should put such a question to me.’
Dick burst into a guffaw.
‘May I ask, sir, what you are laughing at?’
‘At you, of course.’
‘Oh!’ It came out with a sort of snap.
‘You look so comical when you put on that mock-dignified air, that it always sets me off. Of course I know you can’t help it.’
‘Wretch!’ she retorted, half-starting to her feet. Next moment she sat down again in mortal terror. The boat was swaying ominously, or so it seemed to her.
‘Please not to flop about so much,’ he said drily, ‘unless you wish to find yourself in the water. I’m a tolerable swimmer, and I might, perhaps, be able to lug you ashore, but I wouldn’t like to guarantee it.’