little world of water, with nobody to interrupt and nobody to
overhear! He should have done it before. He had wasted precious,
golden time, hanging about while futile men chattered to her of
things that could not possibly be of interest. But he had done the
right thing at last. He had got her. She must listen to him now. She
could not help listening. They were the only inhabitants of this new
world.
He looked back over his shoulder at the world they had left. The
last of the Dreevers had rounded the clump of laurels, and was
standing at the edge of the water, gazing perplexedly after the
retreating canoe.
'These poets put a thing very neatly sometimes,' said Jimmy
reflectively, as he dug the paddle into the water. 'The man who
said, 'Distance lends enchantment to the view,' for instance.
Dreever looks quite nice when you see him as far away as this, with
a good strip of water in between.'
Molly, gazing over the side of the boat into the lake, abstained
from feasting her eyes on the picturesque spectacle.
'Why did you do it?' she said, in a low voice.
Jimmy shipped the paddle, and allowed the canoe to drift. The ripple
of the water against the prow sounded clear and thin in the
stillness. The world seemed asleep. The sun blazed down, turning the
water to flame. The air was hot, with the damp electrical heat that
heralds a thunderstorm. Molly's face looked small and cool in the
shade of her big hat. Jimmy, as he watched her, felt that he had
done well. This was, indeed, the way.
'Why did you do it?' she said again.
'I had to.'
'Take me back.'
'No.'
He took up the paddle, and placed a broader strip of water between
the two worlds; then paused once more.
'I have something to say to you first,' he said.
She did not answer. He looked over his shoulder again. His lordship
had disappeared.
'Do you mind if I smoke?'
She nodded. He filled his pipe carefully, and lighted it. The smoke
moved sluggishly up through the still air. There was a long silence.
A fish jumped close by, falling back in a shower of silver drops.
Molly started at the sound, and half-turned.
'That was a fish,' she said, as a child might have done.
Jimmy knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
'What made you do it?' he asked abruptly, echoing her own question.
She drew her fingers slowly through the water without speaking.
'You know what I mean. Dreever told me.'
She looked up with a flash of spirit, which died away as she spoke.
'What right?' She stopped, and looked away again.
'None,' said Jimmy. 'But I wish you would tell me.'
She hung her head. Jimmy bent forward, and touched her hand.
'Don't' he said; 'for God's sake, don't! You mustn't.'
