Her chin lifted and her brows drew together.

I recognized that look; I had seen it before, on that afternoon when I announced my intention of carrying her from the dingy to the skiff.
"Will you be good enough to let go of my rein ?" she asked.

Every word was a sort of verbal icicle.

I felt the chill and my smile was rather forced; but I held the bridle.
"No," I said, serenely as I could.

For a minute--I suppose it was not longer than that, it seemed an hour to me--we remained as we were.