'Do you want very much to land, Mr. Springrove?' she said, letting
her young violet eyes pine at him a very, very little.

'I? Not at all,' said he, looking an astonishment at her inquiry
which a slight twinkle of his eye half belied. 'But you do?'

'I think that now we have come out, and it is such a pleasant
evening,' she said gently and sweetly, 'I should like a little
longer row if you don't mind? I'll try to steer better than before
if it makes it easier for you. I'll try very hard.'

It was the turn of his face to tell a tale now. He looked, 'We
understand each other--ah, we do, darling!' turned the boat, and
pulled back into the Bay once more.

'Now steer wherever you will,' he said, in a low voice. 'Never mind
the directness of the course--wherever you will.'

'Shall it be Creston Shore?' she said, pointing to a stretch of
beach northward from Budmouth Esplanade.

'Creston Shore certainly,' he responded, grasping the sculls. She
took the strings daintily, and they wound away to the left.

For a long time nothing was audible in the boat but the regular dip
of the oars, and their movement in the rowlocks. Springrove at
length spoke.

'I must go away to-morrow,' he said tentatively.