“See what may be said!” Adela’s countenance changed as she muttered it.  “Thought, would be enough,” she added, shuddering.

“Yes; if one is off guard—­careless,” the captain assented, flowingly.

“Can one in earnest be other than careless?  I shall walk on that line up to the end.  Who makes me deviate is my enemy!”

The playful little person balanced herself to make one foot follow the other along a piece of washed grey rope on the shingle.  Soon she had to stretch out her hand for help, and the captain at full arm’s length conducted her to the final knot.

“Arrived safe!” she said, smiling.

“But not disengaged,” he rejoined, in similar style.

“Please!” She doubled her elbow to give a little tug for her fingers.

“No.”  He pressed them tighter.

“Pray?”

“No.”

“Must I speak to somebody else to get me released?”

“Would you?”

“Must I?”

“Thank heaven, he is not yet in existence!”

‘Husband’ being implied.  Games of this sweet sort are warranted to carry little people as far as they may go swifter than any other invention of lively Satan.

The yachting party, including Mrs. Chump, were at the breakfast-table, and that dumb guest had done all the blushing for Lady Charlotte, when Wilfrid entered, neat, carefully brushed, and with ready answers, though his face could put on no fresh colours.  To Mrs. Chump he bent, passing, and was pushed away and drawn back.  “Your eyes!” she whispered.

“My—­yeyes!” went Wilfrid, in schoolboy style; and she, who rarely laughed, was struck by his humorous skill, saying to Sir Twickenham, beside her:  “He’s as cunnin’ as a lord!”

Sir Twickenham expressed his ignorance of lords having usurped priority in that department.  Frightened by his portentous parliamentary phraseology, she remained tolerably demure till the sitting was over:  now sidling in her heart to the sins of the great, whom anon she angrily reproached.  Her principal idea was, that as the world was discovered to be so wicked, they were all in a boat going to perdition, and it would be as well to jump out immediately:  but while so resolving, she hung upon Lady Charlotte’s looks and little speeches, altogether seduced by so fresh and frank a sinner.  If safe from temptation, here was the soul of a woman in great danger of corruption.

“Among the aristocracy,” thought Mrs. Chump, “it’s just the male that hangs his head, and the female struts and is sprightly.”  The contrast between Lady Charlotte and Wilfrid (who when he ceased to set outrageously, sat like a man stricken by a bolt), produced this reflection:  and in spite of her disastrous vision of the fate of the boat they were in, Mrs. Chump owned to the intoxication of gliding smoothly—­gliding on the rapids.