"You're a caution, little man, you're a caution," she said, slanting her
lashes. "You certainly are. I've heard of you. Yes, I have, only this
morning. I'm a solitary like yourself. See here. You and I could set the
world on fire if we joined hands. Do you know that?"
The little man was struck dumb at his oars for very fear of the boldness
of her advance. He recognized this for an original and fearsome, not to
say delectable, vein of talk. She came on like the sea itself, impetuous
and all-embracing. Unfathomed, too. Could fancy itself construct a woman
so, pat to his hand?
"Is it true that you despise women as they say?" she whispered. She
breathed close, and electrified the tip of his ear with a tendril of
hair. He saw that she wore coral now, in place of the pearls. But her
lips were redder than the coral. He raised his head.
"Yesterday morning you sold pearls for the benefit of Sam Dreed," he
said, in dull tones. "And here you are with your brimstone fairly in my
boat."
He looked at her as if the Old Roke himself had clambered into the boat,
with his spell of doom.
"I am not afraid of helping honest men in trouble that I know of," said
Cad Sills, sucking in her lower lip. "But do you throw that up to me?"
Jethro felt the wickedness of his position like a breath of fire fanning
his cheek.
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