his head, with black webs paddling out behind.

"You were quite wrong on Sunday--_quite_," say I, speaking with sudden
abruptness, and reddening.

"On Sunday!" (throwing his luminous dark eyes upward to the light clouds
and faint blue of the August sky above us, as if to aid his
recollection), "nothing more likely--but what about?"

"About--Roger," I answer, speaking with some difficulty ("and Mrs.
Huntley," I was going to add, but some superstition hinders me from
coupling their names even in a sentence).

"I dare say"--carelessly--"but what new light have you had thrown upon
the matter?"

"I asked her," I say, looking him full in the face, with simple
directness.

"_Asked her!_" repeats he, with an accent of profound astonishment.
"Asked the woman whether she had been engaged to him, and jilted him?
Impossible!"

"No! no!" cry I, with tremulous impatience, "of course not; but I asked
her whether she used not to know him in India, and she said, 'Yes, we
met several times,' just like _that_--she no more blushed and looked
confused than _I_ should if any one asked me whether I knew you!"

He is still leaning over the punt, and has begun to dabble as I did.

"You certainly have a way of putting things very strongly," he says in a
rather low voice, "_convincingly_ so!"

"She did not even know what part of the world he was in!" I cry,
triumphantly.

"Did she say so?" (lifting up his face, and speaking quickly).

"Well, no--o--" I answer, reluctantly; "but I said, 'He is in the West
Indies,' and she answered 'Yes,' or 'Indeed,' or 'Is he?' I forget
which, but at any rate it implied that it was news to her."

A pike leaps not far from us, and splashes back again. I watch to see
whether the widening faint circles will have strength to reach us, or
whether the water's smile will be smoothed and straightened before it
gets to us.

"Did Mrs. Huntley happen to say" (leaning lazily back, and speaking
carelessly), "how she liked her house?"

"No; why?"

"She has only just got into it," he answers, slightly; "only about a
fortnight, that is."

"I wonder," say I, ruminatingly, "what brought her to this part of the
world, for she does not seem to know anybody."

He does not answer.

"We _ought_ to be friends, ought not we?" say I, beginning to laugh
nervously, and looking appealingly toward him, "both of us coming to
sojourn in a strange land! It is a curious coincidence our both settling
here in such similar