s.

"I was only too glad to have you come. I always meant to tell you--what
I have told; but not when I should seem to trap you into listening."

"No," she murmured, "I can believe that of you. I do believe it. I take
back what I said. Don't let us speak of it any more now," she continued,
struggling for her lost composure, with what success appeared in the
fresh outburst with which she recognized his forbearance to hint at any
painfulness to himself in the situation.

"I don't mind it so much on my account, but oh! how could you for your
own sake? Do let us get home as fast as we can!"

"I am doing everything I can to release you," he said. "If you will
sit here," he added, indicating the place beside him in the stern, "you
won't have to change so much when I want to tack."

She took the other seat, and for the first time she noticed that the
wind had grown very light. She watched him with a piteous impatience
while he shifted the sail from side to side, keeping the sheet in his
hand for convenience in the frequent changes. He scanned the sky, and
turned every current of the ebbing tide to account. It was useless; the
boat crept, and presently it scarcely moved.

"The wind is down," he said, making the sheet fast, and relaxing his
hold on the tiller.

"And--And the tide is going out!" she exclaimed.

"The tide is going out," he admitted.

"If we should get caught on these flats," she began, with rising
indignation.

"We should have to stay till the tide turned."

She looked wildly about for aid. If there were a row-boat anywhere
within hail, she could be taken to Jocelyn's in that. But they were
quite alone on those lifeless waters.

Libby got out a pair of heavy oars from the bottom of the boat, and,
setting the rowlocks on either side, tugged silently at them.

The futile effort suggested an idea to her which doubtless she would not
have expressed if she had not been lacking, as she once said, in a sense
of humor.

"Why don't you whistle for a wind?"

He stared at her in sad astonishment to make sure that she was in
earnest, and then, "Whistle!" he echoed forlornly, and broke into a
joyless laugh.

"You knew the chances of delay that I took in asking to come with you,"
she cried, "and you should have warned me. It was ungenerous--it was
ungentlemanly!"

"It was whatever you like. I must be to blame. I suppose I was too glad
to have you come. If I thought anything, I thought you must have some
p