woman's prerogative to choose
her acquaintances. I am grateful for your services tonight, of course;
but beyond that---- The fact is, I do not care to know you, Mr.
Kendrick. Please put me ashore and say good-bye."

A cold fire of resentment burned in Kendrick's eyes as he drove the
canoe to the landing with a few skillful strokes. Why had he been so
foolish as to tell her his real name? Why didn't she want to know him?
Without a word he caught the canoe in one hand and stepped out. He
felt along the gunwale to the bow and fastened the painter to an iron
ring in the planking, then handed her out safely. He retained his
grasp of her hand.

"A moment ago you dared me to kiss you," he said gravely. "I am not in
the habit of taking dares from anybody."

"Let go my hand at once, sir. You know very well you cannot so far
forget yourself as to take such a liberty. I dare you to prove
yourself no gentleman."

"I warn you----!"

"I dare you!"

"Very well! On your own head be it, then! The boatman is worthy of
his hire," he paraphrased and laughingly he seized her in his arms and
kissed her.

The next instant he received a resounding slap in the face. It had
young muscles and indignation behind it and it found him unprepared.
He started back automatically, tripped, lost his balance and fell into
the water.

"Oh, you--you miserable--_fresh Aleck_!" came her mortified cry.

She lingered only long enough to make sure that he could swim. As he
drew himself out of the water the sound of her running feet died out on
the pier.

With chattering teeth Kendrick cast loose, seized his paddle and drove
it deep into the water. Ye gods, what a fool! Very angry at himself,
he set out across the bay once more, guided by the derisive bawling of
the fog-horn at the Eastern Gap.

CHAPTER III

"NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS"

At no time had it been Phil Kendrick's habit to entertain an inflated
opinion of his own importance. On occasion he had ridden around the
gridiron on the shoulders of idolatrous students; but his modesty had
been one of the factors underlying his popularity. Despising conceit
in others, he was too prone, perhaps, to take himself to task for those
little mistakes which every young man is liable to make from time to
time.

It is safe to say, however, that never in all his life had he arraigned
himself upon the carpet of his own condemnation so severely as now
while paddling across the bay for