be so?"

The Very Young Man did not answer, and the girl went on more seriously.
"The women of my race, they are very just. Perhaps you know that, Jack.
Often has my brother told us of his own great world and of its problems.
And the many things he has told us--Lylda and I--we have often wondered.
For every question has its other side, and we cannot judge--from him
alone."

The Very Young Man, surprised at the turn their conversation had taken,
and confused a little by this calm logic from a girl--particularly from
so young and pretty a girl--was at a loss how to go on.

"You cannot understand, Aura," he finally said seriously. "Women may be
all kinds; some are bad--some are good. Down here I know it is not that
way. Sometimes when a girl is smart she thinks she is smarter than any
living man. You would not like that sort of girl would you?"

"My brother never said it just that way," she answered with equal
seriousness. "No, that would be bad--very bad. In our land women are
only different from men. They know they are not better or worse--only
different."

The Very Young Man was thinking of a girl he once knew. "I hate clever
girls," he blurted out.

Aura's eyes were teasing him again. "I am so sorry," she said sadly.

The Very Young Man looked his surprise. "Why are you sorry?"

"My sister, she once told me I was clever. My brother said it, too, and
I believed them."

The Very Young Man flushed.

"You're different," he repeated.

"How--different?" She was looking at him sidewise again.

"I don't know; I've been trying to think--but you are. And I don't hate
you--I like you--very, very much."

"I like you, too," she answered frankly, and the Very Young Man thought
of Loto as she said it. He was leaning down towards her, and their hands
met for an instant.

The Very Young Man had spread his robe out to dry when he first got into
the boat, and now he put it on while Aura steered. Then he sat beside
her on the seat, taking the paddle again.

"Do you go often to the theater?" she asked after a time.

"Oh, yes, often."

"Nothing like that do we have here," she added, a little wistfully.
"Only once, when we played a game in the field beyond my brother's home.
Lylda was the queen and I her lady. And do you go to the opera, too? My
brother he has told me of the opera. How wonderful must that be! So
beautiful--more beautiful even it must be than Lylda's music. But never
shall it be for me." She smiled sadly