For a few moments the girl rattled on capriciously, swinging her stockinged legs in the smooth green swells that rose above her knees along the raft’s edge; and he sat silent beside her, half-listening, half-preoccupied, his eyes instinctively searching the water’s edge beyond.

“I—­hadn’t noticed that Louis Malcourt was so devoted to your sister,” he said.

Cecile looked up quickly, but detected only amiable indifference in the young fellow’s face.

“They’re-always together; elle s’affiche a la fin!” she said impatiently.  “Shiela was only eighteen before; she’s twenty now, and old enough to know whether she wants to marry a man like that or not.”

Hamil glanced around at her incredulously.  “Marry Malcourt?”

But Cecile went on headlong in the wake of her own ideas.

“He’s a sort of a relative; we’ve always known him.  He and Gray used to go camping in Maine and he often spent months in our house.  But for two years now, he’s been comparatively busy—­he’s Mr. Portlaw’s manager, you know, and we’ve seen nothing of him—­which was quite agreeable to me.”

Hamil rose, unquiet.  “I thought you were rather impressed by Shiela,” continued the girl.  “I really did think so, Mr. Hamil.”

“Your sister predicted that I’d lose my heart and senses to you” said Hamil, laughing and reseating himself beside her.

“Have you?”

“Of course I have.  Who could help it?”

The girl considered him smilingly.

“You’re the nicest of men,” she said.  “If you hadn’t been so busy I’m certain we’d have had a desperate affair.  But—­as it is—­and it makes me perfectly furious—­I have only the most ridiculously commonplace and comfortable affection for you—­the sort which prompts mother to send you quinine and talcum powder—­”

Balanced there side by side they fell to laughing.

“Sentiment?  Yes,” she said; “but oh! it’s the kind that offers witch-hazel and hot-water bottles to the best beloved!  Mr. Hamil, why can’t we flirt comfortably like sensibly frivolous people!”

“I wish we could, Cecile.”

“I wish so, too, Garret.  No, that’s too formal—­Garry!  There, that ends our chances!”

“You’re the jolliest family I ever knew,” he said.  “You can scarcely understand how pleasant it has been for me to camp on the edges of your fireside and feel the home-warmth a little—­now and then—­”

“Why do you remain so aloof then?”

“I don’t mean to.  But my heart is in this business of your father’s—­the more deeply in because of his kindness—­and your mother’s—­and for all your sakes.  You know I can scarcely realise it—­I’ve been with you only a month, and yet you’ve done so much for me—­received me so simply, so cordially—­that the friendship seems to be of years instead of hours.”

“That is the trouble,” sighed Cecile; “you and I never had a chance to be frivolous; I’m no more self-conscious with you than I am with Gray.  Tell me, why was Virginia Suydam so horrid to us at first?”