“Eh, dear,” she said aloud.  “You give yourself away, old sport!  Don’t you, now!” The mirrored head shook in disparaging admission of its own shortcoming.  Jenny bent nearer, meeting the eyes with a clear stare.  There were wretched lines about her mouth.  For the first time in her life she had a horrified fear of growing older.  It was as though, when she shut her eyes, she saw herself as an old woman.  She felt a curious stab at her heart.

Keith, returning, found Jenny still before the mirror, engaged in this unsparing scrutiny; and, laughing gently, he caught her elbow with his fingers.  In the mirror their glances met.  At his touch Jenny thrilled, and unconsciously leaned towards him.  From the mirrored glance she turned questioningly, to meet upon his face a beaming expression of tranquil enjoyment that stimulated her to candid remark.  Somehow it restored some of her lost ease to be able to speak so.

“I look funny, don’t I?” She appealed to his judgment.  Keith bent nearer, as for more detailed examination, retaining hold upon her elbow.  His face was tantalisingly close to hers, and Jenny involuntarily turned her head away, not coquettishly, but through embarrassment at a mingling of desire and timidity.

“Is that the word?” he asked.  “You look all right, my dear.”

My dear!  She knew that the words meant more to her than they did to him, so carelessly were they uttered; but they sent a shock through her.  How Jenny wished that she might indeed be dear to Keith!  He released her, and she followed him, laden, backwards and forwards until the table was cleared.  Then he unscrewed the table legs, and the whole thing came gently away in his hands.  There appeared four small brass sockets imbedded in the carpet’s deep pile; and the centre of the room was clear.  By the same dexterous use of his acquaintance with the cabin’s mechanism, Keith unfastened one of the settees, and wheeled it forward so that it stood under the light, and in great comfort for the time when they should sit to hear his story.

“Now!” he said.  “We’ll have a breather on deck to clear your old head.”

iii

By this time the moon was silvering the river, riding high above the earth, serenely a thing of eternal mystery to her beholders.  With the passing of clouds and the deepening of the night, those stars not eclipsed by the moon shone like swarmed throbbing points of silver.  They seemed more remote, as though the clearer air had driven them farther off.  Jenny, her own face and throat illumined, stared up at the moon, marvelling; and then she turned, without speaking, to the black shadows and the gliding, silent water.  Upon every hand was the chequer of contrast, beautiful to the eye, and haunting to the spirit.  A soft wind stirred her hair and made her bare her teeth in pleasure at the sweet contact.