"Where do you want to go?" asked the boy, as once again he brought the
boat to the wind.
"Over there," responded the man, pointing to the opposite shore. "We can
land on that point and get driven home."
Almost mechanically the boy swung the _Scud_ around, and headed her
for the place indicated. From the moment he had caught a glimpse of the
woman clinging to the boat he had found it hard to turn away his eyes. Her
hat was gone, and the wind was blowing her dark-brown hair about her face,
which was white as death. But when she turned her large blue eyes filled
with gratitude and fear upon her rescuer, a strange feeling of
embarrassment swept suddenly over him. Women he had seen before, but none
such as this. How quiet she was, too--not a cry or complaint did she make.
Her clothes were wet; the water cold, and the wind raw. But she sat there
in the boat watching him with those big eyes as he guided the _Scud_
steadily forward.
He looked at her dress, how neat and clean it was. Then he glanced at his
own rough togs. How coarse, worn and dirty were they, while his shoes were
heavy grey brogans.
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