The passengers, coming aboard, seemed like old friends, and he found himself greeting each in turn with a nod that surprised them as much as it did him.  At any moment now Bobby Boynton might appear, and the prospect of seeing her raised his spirits to such a height that he wondered if he would be able to play the role he had assigned himself.

He had definitely decided to be an injured, but forgiving, friend.  She should be made no less aware of his wounds than of his generosity.  She would doubtless recall another incident in which he had met ingratitude with noble forgiveness, and she would rush to make reparation.  If there was one thing he prided himself upon it was a knowledge of women.  Never but once had his judgment erred, and even then, could he but remember all his impressions, he doubtless had had moments of misgiving.

Bobby’s voice sounded on the ladder, and the next moment she was tripping down the deck toward him.  It was in vain that he kept his eyes on the letter in his hand, and assumed an air of complete absorption.  She came straight toward him, and dropped into the chair next his own.

“Oh, but you missed it!” she said.  “I never had so much fun in all my life.”

He did not answer.  Instead, he lifted a pair of melancholy eyes, and looked at her steadfastly.

“Oh,” she said after a puzzled moment, “I forgot.  We are mad, aren’t we?  One of us owes the other an apology.”

“Which do you think it is!” he asked gently, as if appealing to her higher nature.

Bobby, with her head on one side, considered the matter.  “Well,” she said, “you did something I didn’t like, and I did something you didn’t like.  Strikes me the drinks are on us both.”

“The—­” Percival’s horrified look caused her to exclaim contritely: 

“Excuse me, I’ll do better next time.  Come on, let’s make up.  Put it there and call it square!”

It was impossible to refuse the small hand that had been the cause of the trouble, but even as Percival thrilled to its clasp he realized his danger.  During the course of his twenty-eight years he had always been able to prescribe a certain course for himself and follow it with reasonable certainty.  Exciting moments were now occurring when he was unable to tell what his next word or move was going to be.  It is quite certain that he never intended to take her hand in both of his and look at her in the way he was doing now.

“What a bunch of letters!” she said, getting possession of her hand.  “You see, I have some, too.  I’ll read you some of mine if you’ll read me some of yours.  Will you?”

“Which will you have?”

“May I choose?  What fun!  Read me the one with the sunburst on it.”

He obediently adjusted his monocle, broke the seal, and began: 

"’My Dear Son:

“’I cannot, I fear, make my letter so long or so interesting as I could desire, owing to the fact that I am afflicted with a slight lumbago, but I will proceed without further preliminary to set down the few incidents of interest that have occurred since my last writing.  Your brother is sorely harassed by affairs in the city, and when here he is in constant altercation with the grooms about exercising your horses.  I fear you will find them sadly out of condition upon your return.’”