"
She turned upon him with a smile. Without well knowing what he did
he laid his hand softly on her arm.
"Stop, I want a word before you go."
"Well?"
Her large eyes, gleaming on him through the dusk, compelled and yet
frightened him. He trembled and stammered vaguely--
"You said just now--you hinted, I mean--that you were unhappy with
Mr.--with your husband. Is that so?"
It was the second time she had been asked the question to-day.
A faint smile crossed her face.
"Well?" she said again.
"I mean," he answered with a nervous laugh, "I don't like to see it--
and--I meant, if I could help you--"
"To run away? Will you help me to run away?" Her eyes suddenly
blazed upon him, and as she bent forward, and almost hissed the
words, he involuntarily drew back a step.
"Well," he stammered, "he's a good fellow, really, is your husband--
he's been very good to me and all that--"
"Ah!" she exclaimed, turning away, "I thought so. Come, we are
wasting time."
"Stop!" cried Sam.
But she had passed swiftly down the sloping deck and dropped into the
boat without his assistance. He followed unsteadily, untied the
painter, and jumped down after her. They rowed for some time in
silence after the retreating picnickers. Before they came abreast of
the hindmost boat, however, Sam spoke--
"Look here.
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