The colour flooded her face at the pressure of his strong hand, which
was like a steel weight, and she caught her breath. Then, as he took
his hand away and resumed rowing, he said: "I beg your pardon! I was
afraid you were going to get up--a girl I once had in a boat did so and
we upset."
"The boat is very small," she said, in a low voice, almost one of
apology.
"Oh, it's all right, so long as you sit still, and keep your head," he
said. "It could ride over twice as big a swell as this."
She looked at him from under her lowered lids with a new expression in
her face, a faint tremor on her lips; and, as if she could not meet his
eyes, she glanced back with an affectation of interest at the steamer.
As she did so, something dropped from it into the lake.
"What was that?" she said. "Something fell overboard."
"Eh? A man, do you mean?" he asked, stopping.
"Oh, no; something small."
"A parcel, somebody's lunch, perhaps," he said; and he rowed on.
She leant back, her eyes downcast; she still seemed to feel that
strong, irresistible pressure of his hand under which she had been
unable to move.
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