Then he came back to the sofa and stood by Philippa's side.
"Philippa, old girl," he pleaded, "don't let us quarrel.

I have had such a hard fortnight, a nor'easter blowing all the time, and the dirtiest seas I've ever known at this time of the year.

For five days I hadn't a dry stitch on me, and it was touch and go more than once.

We were all in the water together, and there was a nasty green wave that looked like a mountain overhead, and the side of our own boat bending over us as though it meant to squeeze our ribs in.

It looked like ten to one against us, Phil, and I got a worse chill than the sea ever gave me when I thought that I shouldn't see you again." Philippa laid down her knitting.