d Mr. Brandes, squinting at her through
his cigar smoke.

"Yes." She looked down into the tumbling water.

"This is a beautiful country, isn't it, Miss Carew?"

"Yes."

With his head a little on one side he inspected her. There was only
the fine curve of her cheek visible, and a white neck under the
chestnut hair; and one slim, tanned hand resting on the stone
parapet.

"Do you like motoring?" he asked.

She looked up:

"Yes.... I have only been out a few times."

"I'll have another car up here in a few days. I'd like to take you
out."

She was silent.

"Ever go to Saratoga?" he inquired.

"No."

"I'll take you to the races--with your mother. Would you like to go?"

She remained silent so long that he became a trifle uneasy.

"With your mother," he repeated, moving so he could see a little more
of her face.

"I don't think mother would go," she said.

"Would she let you go?"

"I don't think so."

"There's nothing wrong with racing," he said, "if you don't bet money
on the horses."

But Rue knew nothing about sport, and her ignorance as well as the
suggested combination of Saratoga, automobile, and horse racing left
her silent again.

Brandes sat down on the parapet of the bridge and held his straw hat
on his fat knees.

"Then we'll make it a family party," he said, "your father and mother
and you, shall we? And we'll just go off for the day."

"Thank you."

"Would you like it?"

"Yes."

"Will you go?"

"I--work in the mill."

"Every day?"

"Yes."

"How about Sunday?"

"We go to church.... I don't know.... Perhaps we might go in the
afternoon."

"I'll ask your father," he said, watching the delicately flushed face
with odd, almost sluggish persistency.

His grey-green eyes seemed hypnotised; he appeared unable to turn them
elsewhere; and she, gradually becoming conscious of his scrutiny,
kept her own eyes averted.

"What were you looking at in the water?" he asked.

"I was looking for our boat. It isn't there. I'm afraid it has gone
over the dam."

"I'll help you search for it," he said, "when I come back from the
village. I'm going to walk over and find somebody who'll cart that
runabout to the railroad station.... You're not going that way, are
you?" he added, rising.

"No."

"Then----" he lifted his hat high and put it on with care--"until a
little later, Miss Carew.... And I want to apologise for speaking so
familiarly to you yesterday. I'm sorry. It's a way w