But it was too late. Errington gave a final pull, shipped his oars, and, as the boat rode in on the top of a wave, leaped out on the shore and beached her safely. Then he turned and strode towards Diana, his face wearing just that same concerned, half-angry look that it had done when he found her, shortly after the railway collision, trying to help the woman who had lost her child. "What in the name of heaven and earth are you doing here?" he demanded brusquely. Apparently he had entirely forgotten the more recent episode of Easter Sunday and was prepared to scold her roundly, exactly as he had done on that same former occasion. The humour of the situation suddenly caught hold of Diana, and for the moment she, too, forgot that she had reason to be bitterly offended with this man. "Waiting for you to rescue me--as usual," she retorted frivolously. "You seem to be making quite a habit of it." He smiled grimly. "I'm making a virtue of necessity," he flung back at her. "What on earth do your people mean by letting you roam about by yourself like this? You're not fit to be alone! As though a railway accident weren't sufficient excitement for any average woman, you must needs try to drown yourself. Are you so particularly anxious to get quit of this world?" "Drown myself?" she returned scornfully. "How could I--when the sea doesn't come up within a dozen yards of the cliff except at spring tide?" "And I suppose it hadn't occurred to you that this is a spring tide?" he said drily. "In another hour or so there'll be six feet of water where we're standing now." The abrupt realisation that once again she had escaped death by so narrow a margin shook her for a moment, and she swayed a little where she stood, while her face went suddenly very white. In an instant his arm was round her, supporting her. "I oughtn't to have told you," he said hastily. "Forgive me. You're tired--and, merciful heavens! child, you're half-frozen. Your teeth are chattering with cold." He stripped off his coat and made as though to help her on with it. "No--no," she protested. "I shall be quite warm directly. Please put on your coat again." He shook his head, smiling down at her, and taking first one of her arms, and then the other, he thrust them into the empty sleeves, putting the coat on her as one would dress a child. "I'm used to having my own way," he observed coolly, as he proceeded to button it round her. "But you?--" she faltered, looking at the thin silk of his shirt. "I'm not a lady with a beautiful voice that must be taken care of. What would Signor Baroni say to this afternoon's exploit?" "Oh, then you haven't forgotten?" Diana asked curiously. The intensely blue eyes swept over her face. "No," he replied shortly, "I haven't forgotten." In silence he helped her into the boat, and she sat quietly in the stern as he bent to his oars and sent the little skiff speeding homewards towards the harbour.