“But you promised to be patient,” she said.

“Well, I will be.  I am.  Don’t look so serious!  What have I done?”

His eyes challenged her to laughter, and she laughed, though somewhat uncertainly.  “Nothing—­yet, Dick.  But—­I don’t feel at all sure of you to-day.  You make me think of a faun of the woods.  I haven’t the least idea what you will do next.”

“What a mercy I’ve got you safe in the boat!” he said.  “I didn’t know you were so shy.  What shall I do to reassure you?”

His hand moved up her wrist with the words, softly pushing up the lacy sleeve, till it found the bend of the elbow, when he stooped and kissed the delicate blue veins, closely with lips that lingered.

Then, his head still bent low, very tenderly he spoke.  “Don’t be afraid of my love, sweetheart!  Let it be your—­defence!”

She was sitting very still in his hold save that every fibre of her throbbed at the touch of his lips.  But in a moment she moved, touched his shoulder, his neck, with fingers that trembled, finally smoothed the close black hair.

“Why did you make me love you?” she said, and uttered a sharp sigh that caught her unawares.

He laughed as he raised his head.  “Poor darling!  You didn’t want to, did you?  Hard lines!  I believe it’s upset all your plans for the future.”

“It has,” she said.  “At least—­it threatens to!”

“What a shame!” He spoke commiseratingly.  “And what were your plans—­if it isn’t impertinent of me to ask?”

She smiled faintly.  “Well, marriage certainly wasn’t one of them.  And I’m not sure that it is now.  I feel like the girl in Marionettes—­Cynthia Paramount—­who said she didn’t think any women ought to marry until she had been engaged at least six times.”

“That little beast!” Dick sat up suddenly and returned to his sculls.  “Juliet, why did you read that book?  I told you not to.”

Her smile deepened though her eyes were grave.  She clasped her fingers about her knees.  “My dear Dick, that’s why.  It didn’t hurt me like The Valley of Dry Bones. In fact I was feeling so nice and superior when I read it that I rather enjoyed it.”

Dick sent the boat through the water with a long stroke.  His face was stern.  After a moment Juliet looked at him.  “Are you cross with me because I read it, Dick?”

His face softened instantly.  “With you!  What an idea!”

“With the man who wrote it then?” she suggested.  “He exasperates me intensely.  He has such a maddeningly clear vision, and he is so inevitably right.”

“And yet you persist in reading him!” Dick’s voice had a faintly mocking note.