She shook her head.
""The worst" is over."
"Do you see that bank of cloud?"
"It will make a fine sunset," she answered. While Sam was getting the boat ready: "He must stay behind," she said, very low.
Ethan seemed about to give the order, but it stuck in his throat.
"Shall I tell him?" she asked.
Still no answer.
"Sa--" she called.
"We can go alone another day," Ethan interrupted, hurriedly.
She shook her head.
"When that other day comes I may not be able."
"What should prevent you?"
"Something stronger than I--or you." As he looked at her: "I may come to feel too much that sense you said I lacked. Quick, quick! Make him hurry: it"s late. It might come to seem too late."
"Late. Do you realize it"s not four weeks since the ball? You who wanted to go to China and Persia, and G.o.d knows where!"
"Well, I _am_ going--G.o.d knows where." She turned away her head.
Sam was waiting to hand her in.
"No, Ethan, _you_," she whispered. But she looked back when she was in the boat, and smiled at the old sailor.
"You needn"t come this time," she said, as he was preparing to follow Ethan. "I can manage the tiller."
Sam"s doubtful looks vanished as he observed the lady"s air of custom.
"Where shall we go?" said Ethan.
"I think I"ll steer for the sunset," she answered, in the same level voice.
He paused with the sheet in his hand.
"That would bring us--" He looked out across the water, far across it, beyond it, till his cloudy eyes found the cloud-hung entrance to the open sea.
"It will bring us out at the Golden Gate," she said.