"Wait till you see her. Besides, I'm not running after any woman,"
averred Philip with some heat.

"Oh, I beg your pardon--I forgot. She's not a woman; she's a Sun-
angel. You are rowing, not running, after a Sun-angel. Is that
correct? I say, don't drive through the water like that; you'll pull
the boat round."

Errington slackened his speed and laughed. "It's only curiosity," he
said, lifting his hat, and pushing back the clustering dark-brown
curls from his brow. "I bet you that sleek Dyceworthy fellow meant
the old bonde and his daughter, when he spoke of persons who were
'ejected' from the social circles of Bosekop. Fancy Bosekop society
presuming to be particular--what an absurd idea!"

"My good fellow, don't pretend to be so deplorably ignorant! Surely
you know that a trumpery village or a two-penny town is much more
choice and exclusive in its 'sets' than a great city? I wouldn't
live in a small place for the world. Every inhabitant would know the
cut of my clothes by heart, and the number of buttons on my
waistcoat. The grocer would copy the pattern of my trousers,--the
butcher would carry a cane like mine. It would be simply
insufferable. To change the subject, may I ask you if you know which
way you are going, for it seems to me we're bound straight for a
smash on that uncomfortable-looking rock, where there is certainly
no landing-place."

Errington stopped pulling, and, standing up in the boat, began to
examine the surroundings with keen interest. They were close to the