paying attention to another woman. Was this love? Perhaps.

These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat there
side by side isolated from the main herd of passengers, each
silent, watching through the open rail the foaming water as it
rushed past. Jefferson had been casting furtive glances at his
companion and as he noted her serious, pensive face he thought how
pretty she was. He wondered what she was thinking of and suddenly
inspired no doubt by the mysterious power that enables some people
to read the thoughts of others, he said abruptly:

"Shirley, I can read your thoughts. You were thinking of me."

She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her self
possession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered for
a moment and then replied:

"You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you guess?"

He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made no
resistance. Her delicate, slender hand lay passively in his big
brown one and met his grasp frankly, cordially. He whispered:

"What were you thinking of me--good or bad?"

"Good, of course. How could I think anything bad of you?"

She turned her eyes on him in wonderment. Then she went on:

"I was wondering how a girl could distinguish between the feeling