She winked at him as he shut the door. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. The water was cold but she waded deeper. If only to say goodbye. "So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. She sat perfectly still, however.
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