Can you not imagine me Mike or Tim, or some fellow of that sort."
"No, I can't."
"Then perhaps you wish me to go for Mike or Tim?"
"But the tide is running out so fast, you said."
"Yes, and it will soon be dark."
"Oh, dear!" and there was distress in her tones.
He now said kindly, "Miss Madison, I wish that like Sir Walter
Raleigh I had a mantle large enough for you to walk over. You can
at least imagine that I am a gentleman, that you may soon be at
the hotel, and no one ever be any the wiser that you had to choose
between me and the deep--ah, well--mud."
"There is no reason for such an allusion, Mr. Scofield."
"Well, then, that you had no other choice."
"That's better. But how in the world can you manage it?"
"You will have to put your arm around my neck."
"Oh!"
"You would put your arm around a post, wouldn't you?" he asked
with more than his old brusqueness.
"Yes-s; but--"
"But the tide is going out. My own boat will soon be fast. Dinner
will grow cold at the hotel, and you are only the longer in
dispensing with me.
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