"Not yet!" said Hamil sharply.

"I beg your pardon?"--looking up surprised, still poised lightly on both
palms as though checked at the instant of rising into swift aërial
flight--so light, so buoyant she appeared.

"Don't go overboard," he repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to row you in."

"I wish to swim; I prefer it."

"I am only going to take you to the float--"

"But I don't care to have you. I am perfectly able to swim in--"

"I know you are," he said, swinging clear around in his seat to face
her, "but I put it in the form of a request; will you be kind enough to
let me row you part way to the float? This fog is not ended."

She opened her lips to protest; indeed, for a moment it looked as if she
were going overboard without further argument; then perhaps some
belated idea of civility due him for the hospitality of his boat
restrained her.

"You understand, of course, that I am quite able to swim in," she said.

"Yes; may I now row you part way? The fog is closing in again."