room for to-night."

"Oh, I say!" he replied, "that's awfully jolly of you. It _is_ a beastly
shame to turn the old man out of his bed two nights in one week, but
your boat is the only one on the river where a fellow feels at home, you
know. Besides that, I couldn't get back to town before ten o'clock
to-night if I started now, and where would I get my dinner? And if I
wait to get my dinner here, I'd either have to sleep at Henley or be
half the night in getting home. So you see I've got to stay, and thanks
awfully for letting me have your room."

Bee, who was standing near, pushed her veil up and cleared her throat.
She looked at me.

"Did you ever in all your life?" she said.

"No, I never did," I said. "I never, never did."

"Never did what?" said the English gentleman.

"I never saw anybody like you in a book or out of it, but I suppose
there are ten thousand more just as good-looking as you are; just as
tall and well built and selfish."

"Selfish," he blurted out with a very red face. "What is there selfish
about me, I should like to know? You offered me your room, didn't you?"

"Yes, she offered it," said Bee, sitting on a little table and tucking
her feet on a chair. "She offered it to you just to see if you'd take
it--just to see how far you _would_ go. You haven't known my sister very