A terrible spot, that, on a stormy night. And do you see a
very small light that dips and rises to the right? That's a light-
ship on the dangerous shoal called the Shambles, where many a good
vessel has gone to pieces. Between it and ourselves is the Race--
a place where antagonistic currents meet and form whirlpools--a
spot which is rough in the smoothest weather, and terrific in a
wind. That dark, dreary horizon we just discern to the left is
the West Bay, terminated landwards by the Chesil Beach.'
'What time is it, Harry?'
'Just past two.'
'Are you going below?'
'Oh no; not to-night. I prefer pure air.'
She fancied he might be displeased with her for coming to him at
this unearthly hour. 'I should like to stay here too, if you will
allow me,' she said timidly.
'I want to ask you things.'
'Allow you, Elfie!' said Knight, putting his arm round her and
drawing her closer. 'I am twice as happy with you by my side.
Yes: we will stay, and watch the approach of day.'
So they again sought out the sheltered nook, and sitting down
wrapped themselves in the rug as before.
'What were you going to ask me?' he inquired, as they undulated up
and down.
'Oh, it was not much--perhaps a thing I ought not to ask,' she
said hesitatingly. Her sudden wish had really been to discover at
once whether he had ever before been engaged to be married. If he
had, she would make that a ground for telling him a little of her
conduct with Stephen.
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