hesitating.

"Oh, yes," said the girl, folding her hands demurely in her lap, "and I
know you, too, very well. You are my husband."

This announcement struck Lynde speechless. The rough men exchanged
amused glances, and the ship-builder gave vent to a curious dry laugh.
Lynde could have killed him. The party moved on. Up to this moment the
young man had been boiling with rage; his rage now yielded place to
amazement. What motive had prompted the girl to claim that relationship?
Was it a desperate appeal to him for protection? But brother, or cousin,
or friend would have served as well. Her impulsive declaration, which
would be at once disproved, might result in serious complications for
him and her. But it had not been an impulsive declaration; she had said
it very calmly, and, he fancied, with just the lightest touch of
coquetry, "You are my husband!" For several minutes Lynde did not dare
to let his eyes wander in her direction. She was a pace or so in the
rear at his right. To see her he would be obliged to turn slightly; this
he presently did, with a movement as if settling himself more easily in
the saddle. The girl's loose hair was blown like a black veil over her
face, putting her into mourning; she was steadying herself with one hand
resting on Mary's mane; her feet were crossed, and a diminutive slipper
had fallen from one of them. There was something so helpless and
appealing in the girl's attitude that Lynde was touched.

"May I speak with you, sir?" he said, addressing himself to a man whom
somebody had called Morton, and who appeared to issue the orders for the
party. The man came to Lynde's side.

"For Heaven's sake, sir, explain this! Who is that young woman?"