Crazy Radio eBooks

She told herself that he
wouldn't--that he'd sit there until he finished his book, or until they
called him for lunch, without, as he himself had boasted that morning, a
thought of her entering his mind.
She wept again over this notion, luxuriating rather, it must be
confessed, in the pathos of it, until she caught herself in the act and,
disgustedly, dried her eyes. Of course he'd worry about her. Only there
was nothing either of them could do about it until the storm should be
over; then she'd paddle back to the house as fast as she could and set
his mind at rest.
Suddenly she sat erect, looked, rubbed her eyes, looked again, then
sprang to her feet and went out into the driving rain. A spot of white,
a larger one of black, two moving pin-points of light, was what she saw.
The white was Rodney's shirt, the black the canoe, the pin-points the
reflection from the two-bladed paddle as, recklessly, he forced his way
with it into the teeth of the storm. He wanted her, after all.
So, with a racing heart and flushed cheeks, she watched him.


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