“And yet I persist in reading him.  You see, I am a woman, Dick.  I haven’t your lordly faculty for ignoring the people I most dislike.  I detest Dene Strange, but I can’t overlook him.  No one can.  I think his character studies are quite marvellous.  That girl and her endless flirtations, and then—­when the real thing comes to her at last—­that unspeakable man of iron refusing to take her because she had jilted another man, ruining both their lives for the sake of his own rigid code!  He didn’t deserve her in any case.  She was too good for him with all her faults.”  Juliet paused, studying her lover’s face attentively.  “I hope you’re not that sort of man, Dick,” she said.

He met her eyes.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because there’s a high-priestly expression about your mouth that rather looks as if you might be.  Please don’t tell me if you are because it will spoil all my pleasure!  Give me a cigarette instead and let’s enjoy ourselves!”

“You’ll find the case in my coat behind,” he said.  “But, Juliet, though I wouldn’t spoil your pleasure for the world, I must say one thing.  If a woman engages herself to a man, I consider she is bound in honour to fulfil her engagement—­unless he sets her free.  If she is an honourable woman, she will never free herself without his consent.  I hold that sort of engagement to be a debt of honour—­as sacred as the marriage vow itself.”

“Even though she realizes that she is going to make a mistake?” said Juliet, beginning to search the coat.

“Whatever the circumstances,” he said.  “An engagement can only be broken by mutual consent.  Otherwise, the very word becomes a farce.  I have no sympathy with jilts of either sex.  I think they ought to be kicked out of decent society.”

Juliet found the cigarettes and looked up with a smile.  “I think you and Dene Strange ought to collaborate,” she said.  “You would soon put this naughty world to rights between you.  Now open your mouth and shut your eyes, and if you’re very good I’ll light it for you!”

There was in her tone, despite its playfulness, a delicate finality that told him plainly that she had no intention of pursuing the subject further, and, curiously, the man’s heart smote him for a moment.  He felt as if in some fashion wholly inexplicable he had hurt her.

“You’re not vexed with me, sweetheart?” he said.

She looked at him still smiling, but her look, her smile, were more of a veil than a revelation.  “With you!  What an idea!” she said, softly mocking.

“Ah, don’t!” he said.  “I’m not like that, Juliet!”

She held up the cigarette.  “Quite ready?  Ah, Dick!  Don’t—­don’t upset the boat!”

For the sculls floated loose again in the rowlocks.  He had her by the wrists, the arms, the shoulders.  He had her, suddenly and very closely, against his heart.  He covered her face with his kisses, so that she gasped and gasped for breath, half-laughing, half-dismayed.