“What’s the matter?” I took the oar.
“You looked so funny holding that thing.”
“I suppose so.”
“Don’t be cross, darling. It was awfully funny. You looked about twenty feet broad and very affectionate holding the umbrella by the edges—” she choked.
“I’ll row.”
“Take a rest and a drink. It’s a grand night and we’ve come a long way.”
“I have to keep the boat out of the trough of the waves.”
“I’ll get you a drink. Then rest a little while, darling.”
I held the oars up and we sailed with them. Catherine was opening the bag. She handed me the brandy bottle. I pulled the cork with my pocket-knife and took a long drink. It was smooth and hot and the heat went all through me and I felt warmed and cheerful. “It’s lovely brandy,” I said. The moon was under again but I could see the shore. There seemed to be another point going out a long way ahead into the lake.
“Are you warm enough, Cat?”
“I’m splendid. I’m a little stiff.”
“Bail out that water and you can put your feet down.”
Then I rowed and listened to the oarlocks and the dip and scrape of the bailing tin under the stern seat.
“Would you give me the bailer?” I said. “I want a drink.”
“It’s awfully dirty.”
“That’s all right. I’ll rinse it.”
I heard Catherine rinsing it over the side. Then she handed it to me dipped full of water. I was thirsty after the brandy and the water was icy cold, so cold it
