and we found it impossible to doubt that she did. At all events she
remained upon it, close beside the Philosopher, as long as he retained
his position; and she appeared to become absorbed in the trout flies,
asking many questions, and exclaiming over some of them in a way which
showed her to be of a most sympathetic disposition.

* * * * *

Finally the Philosopher seized upon an opportunity and rose. "Well," he
observed, "I believe I'll go and try my luck."

Dahlia looked up at him. Her pretty face took on a beseeching
expression.

The Philosopher regarded her uncomprehendingly.

"You will excuse----" he began.

But Dahlia did not let him finish. "I simply love to go fishing," she
said softly.

"Do you?" said the Philosopher, blinking stupidly. "It is great sport, I
think, myself."

Even then I believe he would have turned away. He is not used to it--at
least, in Dahlia's style. But she detained him.

"Are you really not going to ask me?" she said, looking like a
disappointed child.