glanced up sharply, the moonlight on her face, and saw a group of
men in a punt moored under the shadowy bank. One of them raised his
hand and sent a ringing salutation across the water.

Hilary nodded and turned aside. There was annoyance on her face--the
annoyance of one suddenly awakened from a dream of complete enjoyment.

Her companion asked no question. He was bending vigorously to his work.
But she seemed to consider some explanation to be due to him.

"That," she said, "is a man I know slightly. His name is Cosmo Fletcher."

"A friend?" asked the big man.

Hilary coloured a little.

"Well," she said half-reluctantly, "I suppose one would call him that."

* * * * *

"I believe you're in love with Culver's half-breed American," said Cosmo
Fletcher brutally, nearly three weeks later. He had just been rejected
finally and emphatically by the girl who faced him in the stern of his
skiff.

She was very pale, but her eyes were full of resolution as they met his.

"That," she said, "is no business of yours. Please take me back!"

He looked as if he would have liked to refuse, but her steadfast eyes
compelled him. Sullenly he turned the boat.

Dead silence reigned between them till, as they rounded a bend in the
river and came within sight of the house-boat, Fletcher, glancing over
his shoulder, caught sight of a big figure seated on the deck.

Then he turned to the girl with a sneer:

"It might interest Jack Merrivale to hear of this pretty little romance
of yours," he said.

The colour flamed in her cheeks.

"Tell him then!" she said defiantly.

"I think I must," said Fletcher. "He and I are such old friends."

He waited for her to tell him that it was on his account that they had
quarrelled, but she would not so far gratify him, maintaining a stubborn
silence till they drew alongside. Jacques rose to hand her on board.

"I hope you have enjoyed your row," he said courteously.

"Thanks!" she returned briefly, avoiding his eyes. "I think it is too hot
to enjoy anything to-day."

The tea-kettle was singing merrily on the dainty brass spirit-lamp, and
she sat down at the table forthwith.

Jacques stood beside her, silent and friendly as a tame mastiff. Perhaps
his presence after what had just passed between herself and Fletcher made
her nervous, or perhaps her thoughts were elsewhere and she forgot to be
cautious. Whatever the cause, she took up the kettle carelessly