The boat was running smoothly before a little favoring breeze, and Ida sat at the tiller, looking out upon the shining water.
They had not spoken since they left the beach, but by and by she turned toward Weston.
"I am glad it is so fine an evening since it's scarcely likely that I shall have another sail," she said.

"We have decided to leave early on Monday." Weston nodded.

It was the first time she had mentioned their departure to him, and he recognized that unless he were cautious it might prove a dangerous subject.
"You are going to Montreal ?" he inquired.
"In the first place.

However, we are going to England in a week or two." Though he was on his guard, she saw him start, but he stooped and coiled up one of the halyards before he answered her.
"You will, of course, be there some time ?" "Six months at least, perhaps longer." She watched him quietly, but he sat very still with the rope in his hand.
"Well," he said, "I think you will like it.

You will be in London, I suppose ?" Ida felt vaguely sorry for him.