smile, inscrutable and mocking; the eyes looked into his
with a gay defiance.

"Perhaps you will be good enough to give me the benefit of these first
impressions of my character. They are as comprehensive, no doubt, as
those of the British traveller in America. Tell on, as the children
say."

"Pardon me, I have said too much already, under the circumstances.
Praise would be impertinence, and criticism insolence."

"You shall have absolution in advance. Begin then!" she added, with a
little nod of command. "What is the most striking trait of my
character on first acquaintance?"

"Well, if you will have it, I should say it was a restlessness which
you probably call energy; but it is a different thing. Energy is
absorbed in the object which it seeks to attain. Restlessness is
absorbed in the attaining."

"Hm! what next?"

"Next? Next, comes a quality almost invariably allied to such
restlessness as yours,--ambition. You may have all sorts of fine
theories about equality and that kind of thing; but you want
power--power over the lives with which you come in contact--power for
good of course; but it must be yours and wielded by you. It is not
enough that things should get along somehow. They must go right in
your way."

Winifred laughed.

"Ah! you say that because I wanted to show you how to set off a rocket
last night."

"I should say you showed us quite satisfactorily how _not_ to set off
a rocket last night."

"Don't let us revert to that episode, about which we shall probably
not agree. But go on. Let me hear more of your impressions. They are
quite diverting."

"No more. I dare not presume further upon my advance absolution.
Rather let me ask you to return candor for candor, and give me your
impressions of me and my character, or lack of it."

"I have formed none."

"Is that quite true?"

"No," said Winifred, looking up, "it is not true at all. I formed
impressions within the first ten minutes after I had seen you, only I
called them, more modestly, prejudices."

"Prejudices? They were unfavorable then. Good! Let us have them!" and
Flint settled himself more comfortably, bracing his head against his
clasped hands; and, leaning back against the bank of sand, he sat
watching the little tufts of coarse grass springing up close beside
him. Still Winifred was silent. At last Flint began himself:--

"You thought me rude and churlish, I suppose?"

"I certainly did not think you were Bayard and Sidney