careful."

"Well--" She perceived that, if not right, he was stubborn; and
with a final small gesture of deprecation, weakly surrendered.
"I'm sorry to be such a nuisance," she murmured, rising and
gathering skirts about her.

Maitland stoutly denied the hideous insinuation: "I am only too
glad--"

She balanced herself lightly upon the step. He moved nearer and
assured himself of a firm foothold on the pebbly river-bed. She
sank gracefully into his arms, proving a considerable burden--
weightier, in fact, than he had anticipated. He was somewhat
staggered; it seemed that he embraced countless yards of ruffles
and things ballasted with (at a shrewd guess) lead. He swayed.

Then, recovering his equilibrium, incautiously glanced into her
eyes. And lost it again, completely.

"I was mistaken," he told himself; "daylight will but enhance...."

She held herself considerately still, perhaps wondering why he
made no move. Perhaps otherwise; there is reason to believe that
she may have suspected--being a woman.

At length, "Is there anything I can do," she inquired meekly, "to
make it easier for you?"

"I'm afraid," he replied, attitude apologetic, "that I must ask