You'd have been in a worse fix than you are now, if Mr.Standish had come over here to-day and found him on the island." Roke did not deign to reply, but moved a little farther from the speaker.
"At this rate," said Brice pleasantly, "you and I are likely to have a jolly time together, out here.

I can't imagine a merrier chum for a desert island visit.

I only hope I won't neglect my work chatting with you all day." Roke eyed him obliquely as he plodded on, and his battered lip-corner lifted a little in what looked like a beast snarl.
But he said nothing.
Then they were at the shallow porch of the hut and Milo Standish had thrown open its iron door letting out a gush of golden melody from the violin.

At his hail, the music ceased.

And Rodney Hade, fiddle in hand, appeared in the doorway.
"You're late," said the violinist, speaking to Milo with that ever-smiling suavity which Gavin recalled from the night before, and ignoring Gavin entirely "You've kept me waiting." Despite the smooth voice and the eternal smile there was an undernote of rebuke in the words, as of a teacher who reproves a child for tardiness.