"Yes," said she, without hesitation. La Vireville weighed the thought. It was what he wished. Their time together was already so brief, that to put to sea together without a third, even for that short voyage, was a great temptation. "I do not know the channel," he said reflectively, "but the wind will not serve us ill for Guernsey." "But I have sailed the channel, the Great Russel, several times," said Raymonde quickly. "The mark for the mid-channel, till you get within a mile from the islet of Jethou, is St. Martin's Tower in Guernsey. I can point it out to you. If we put out at once we can get back before the storm comes up--if it is coming up at all--whereas if we go round to the other side of the island, to Creux Harbour, to find a pilot, we shall be indefinitely delayed." "You are quite right," said her lover, gazing at her where she stood a little below him on the sunlit slope. "But I do not like the look of the weather. Yet I must get back to St. Peter Port and catch the sloop before she sails--I have given my word. The best is for you to stay here, and I will go alone." "No, no!" she cried vehemently. "That is not safe! You are not familiar with the sunken rocks. I am, and I know something of handling a boat. You will have more than you can do alone." Yes, he was a one-armed man now! Through his gladness at her decision to accompany him pierced for a second the point of that assailing thought of compassion. But it did not stay with him; he beat it off as one would a vampire, and followed her down the path. The gulls were screaming overhead, and the waves lopped half-playfully, half-menacingly against the sides of the sailing-boat as he pulled her in from her moorings. As if the two puffins had only waited to know his decision, they now left their perch, and fluttered off with their absurd, ineffectual, mothlike flight. "I wish you would not come, Raymonde," he said half-heartedly, as he helped her aboard. "Since when have you become a fairweather sailor, Monsieur Augustin?" she retorted. "At any rate we will take a reef in the mainsail before we start," said Monsieur Augustin, and together they did it. The small mizen over the stern was still standing, and he left it so. Forward he set the jib only. And as they moved out of the little spellbound harbourage, so painted with the hues of the seaweed, they did not, despite the ruffled, slaty-blue water, appear to be doing anything very foolhardy. Raymonde steered, because she knew the whereabouts of the 'stones,' and he sat facing her on the thwart, the end of the mainsheet in his hand. Neither spoke much at first; to him, at least, as he gazed at her the hour was sacred. Yes, on whatever terms, so only she were his! So, almost in silence, they rounded the Pointe de Nez, the extreme northern corner of Sark, and set the course for Guernsey. "And now," said Raymonde de Guéfontaine, "it is time to tell me how you escaped at Quiberon."