"
"I wasn't thinking of inviting you all," he returned coolly. "Even if the
yacht could accommodate you. I was limiting the proposed yachting party to
you--and me."
Ann moved restlessly.
"Don't be absurd, Brett."
He laughed--that gay, triumphant laughter of his which always made her a
little afraid. It sounded so sure, so carelessly confident.
"Then don't fence with me any longer," he retorted. "What's the use of
pretending, anyway?"
"Pretending? I'm afraid I don't understand." She threw a quick, dismayed
glance down the length of the deck, devoutly wishing that some one would
come along and interrupt them. But there was nobody in sight except one of
the crew--and he was keeping his eyes very studiously turned away from the
corner where they were seated.
"You don't understand?" Brett's voice roughened a little. "Haven't I made
it clear what I want? I want _you_--"
"No, no!" Ann jumped up from her chair precipitately. "Don't say it, Brett!
Please don't. I--I don't want to hear."
There was a note of urgent pleading in her hurried speech, but if he heard
it he paid no attention. He was on his feet as quickly as she was. Perhaps
if she had looked at him she would have realised that she was drawing upon,
herself the very thing she was trying to avoid.
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