"I don't think that would be a good plan," she said, in rather a mournful tone, gazing dreamily at him with her great black eyes, as if she saw miles into the future. "I can take good care of myself--nobody better. But if I like people at all I like them very much. It's my nature--I wish it wasn't." "Then you don't like _me_ at all?" he replied, in a low voice, bending down to alter the stretcher at his feet. "Just my luck!" Why couldn't he leave edged tools alone? Like a very child, he must needs play with them, only because they lay to his hand. How we all cut our fingers without the slightest occasion long after we believe ourselves old enough and wise enough to run alone! "If I did, I shouldn't tell you so," answered Jin, lowering her voice in harmony with his. "Do you think a woman never keeps a secret? Captain Vanguard, I can't quite make you out; you puzzle me more than anybody I know." Frank, sculling leisurely on, began to think this was very pleasant. It gratified him to suppose there should be depths unfathomed in his character; it flattered him to learn that this clever, accomplished woman had thought it worth while to try and search them to the bottom. Perhaps the exercise flushed it a little, but there was a very becoming colour in his face while he replied: "The plainest fellow in the world, Miss Ross, and the honestest, as you'll find, when you know me better. I may chaff a little sometimes, like other people, but everybody can tell what's chaff and what's earnest. _You_ can, I'm sure." She nodded and smiled. "Are you in earnest _now_?" she said, looking with real pleasure into the comely, honest young face. "I am, I'll swear!" he exclaimed, forgetting that nothing had yet been spoken to be earnest about. "What I think I say, and what I say I mean!" "I wish--no--I wonder, whether I can believe you," she answered very softly, and again the black eyes seemed to pierce right through his jersey to his heart. Meanwhile their boat shot merrily over the dead water, urged by her oarsman's skilled and vigorous strokes. Jin watched with critical approval the play of his muscular shoulders, the ease and freedom of his movements, the strength, symmetry, and youthful vitality of the man. "Do you like poetry?" she asked, after a minute's silence. "Poetry?" repeated Frank doubtfully. "I don't mind it," but qualified the admission by adding, "glees, and songs, and that." She was rather thinking aloud than speaking to her companion, while she continued: "I always admire that description of the Scandinavian warrior's accomplishments: there is something so simple about it, and so manly: 'These arts are mine, to wield the steel, To curb the warlike horse; To swim the lake, or skate on heel, To urge my rapid course; To draw the bow, to fling the spear, To brush with oar the main: All these are mine, and shall I bear A Danish maid's disclaim?'