"Just what do you mean by that?" asked the woman sharply, a glint of
indignation in her level, challenging stare.

"Merely that your tone sounded a bit vindictive. I thought possibly you
might want to have it out with him, for the sin of permitting me to
infest this neck o' the woods."

"Absurd!" she laughed, placated.

When finally they came to the end of the dock, he paused, considering
the three-foot drop to the deck of the motor-boat with a dubious look
that but half expressed his consternation. It would be practically
impossible to lower himself without employing the painful member to an
extent he didn't like to anticipate. He met the girl's inquiring glance
with one wholly rueful.

"If it weren't low tide...." he explained, crest-fallen.

She laughed lightly. "But, since it is low tide, you'll have to let me
help you again."

Cautiously lowering himself to a sitting position on the dock, feet
overhanging the boat, he nodded. "'Fraid so. Sorry to be a nuisance."

"You're not a nuisance. You're merely masculine," the girl retorted,
jumping lightly but surely to the cockpit.

She turned and offered him a hand, eyes dancing with gay malice.

Whitaker delayed, considering her gravely.

"Meaning--?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Like all men you must turn to a woman in the end--however brave your
strut."

"Oh, it's that way, is it? Thank you, but I fancy I can manage."

And with the aid of the clothes-prop he did manage to make the descent
without her hand and without disaster.

"Pure _blague_!" the girl taunted.

"That's French for I-think-I'm-smart-don't-I--isn't it?" he inquired
with an innocent stare. "If so, the answer is: I do."

Her lips and eyes were eloquent of laughter repressed.

"But now?" she argued, sure of triumph. "You've got to admit you
couldn't do without me now!"

"Oh, I can manage a motor, if that's what you mean," he retorted
serenely; "though I confess there are a few new kinks to this one that
might puzzle me a bit at the start. That chain-and-cogwheel affair to
turn the flywheel with, for instance--that's a new one. The last time I
ran a marine motor in this country we had to break our backs and run
chances of breaking our arms as well, turning up by hand."

The girl had gone forward, over the cabin roof, to cast off. She
returned along the outboard, pushing the boat clear, then, jumping back
into the cockpit, started the engine with a single, almost effortless
turn of the c