happily he had action to cloak his embarrassment. In a twinkling
he was at the water's edge, pausing there to listen, with
admirable docility, to her plaintive objection: "But you'll get
wet and--and ruin your things. I can't ask that of you."

He chuckled, by way of reply, slapping gallantly into the shallows
and courageously wading out to the side of the car. Whereupon he
was advised in tones of fluttered indignation:

"You simply _wouldn't_ listen to me! And I _warned_ you!
Now you're soaking wet and will certainly catch your death of
cold, and--and what can _I_ do? Truly, I am sorry...."

Here the young man lost track of her remark. He was looking up
into the shadow of the motoring-cap, discovering things; for the
shadow was set at naught by the moon luster that, reflected from
the surface of the stream, invested with a gentle and glamorous
radiance the face that bent above him. And he caught at his breath
sharply, direst fears confirmed: she was pretty indeed--perilously
pretty. The firm, resolute chin, the sensitive, sweet line of
scarlet lips, the straight little nose, the brows delicately
arched, the large, alert, tawny eyes with the dangerous sweet
shadows beneath, the glint as of raw copper where her hair caught
the light--Maitland appreciated them all far too well; and
clutched nervously the rail of the seat, trying to steady himself,
to re-collect his routed wits and consider sensibly that it all
was due to the magic of the moon, belike; the witchery of this
apparition that looked down into his eyes so gravely.

"Of course," he mumbled, "it's too beautiful to endure. Of course