were abreast the Point. I must have been going directly out to sea."

She shivered.

"You are wet," I said, anxiously. "There is a storm coat of mine in the
locker forward. Won't you put that about your shoulders? It may prevent
your taking cold."

"No, thank you. I am not wet, at all; or, at least, only my feet and the
bottom of my skirt. I shall not take cold."

"But--"

"Please don't worry. I am all right, or shall be as soon as I get home."

"I am very sorry about your canoe."

"It doesn't matter."

Her answers were short now. There was a different note in her voice. I
knew the reason of the change. Now that the shock and the surprise of
our meeting were over she and I were resuming our old positions. She was
realizing that her companion was the "common fellow" whose "charming and
cultivated society" was not necessary to her happiness, the fellow to
whom she had scornfully offered "congratulations" and whom she had cut
dead at the Deans' that very afternoon. I made no more suggestions and
expressed no more sympathy.

"I will take you home at once," I said, curtly.

"If you please."

That ended conversation for the time. She seated herself on the bench
near the forward end of the cockpit and kept her head turned away from
me. I, with one hand upon the wheel--a useless procedure, for I had no
idea where the launch might be headed--looked over the rail and listened
to the slow and regular beat of the engine. Suddenly the beat grew less
regular. The engine barked, hiccoughed, barked again but more faintly,
and then stopped altogether.

I knew what was the matter. Before I reached the gasolene tank and
unscrewed the little cover I knew it. I thrust in the gauge stick and
heard it strike bottom, drew it out and found it, as I expected, dry
to the very tip. I had trusted, like an imbecile, to Lute. Lute had
promised to fill that tank "the very first thing," and he had not kept
his promise.

There was not a pint of gasolene aboard the Comfort; and it would be my
cheerful duty to inform my passenger of the fact!

She did not wait for me to break the news. She saw me standing there,
holding the gauge stick in my hand, and she asked the natural question.

"What is the matter?" she demanded.

I swallowed the opinion of Mr. Rogers which was on the tip of my tongue.

"I am sorry," I stammered, "but--but--well, we are in trouble, I am
afraid."

"In trouble?" she said coldly. "What trouble do you mean?"

"