"Oh, Miss Wilton--Katharine," he replied desperately, "I am devoured by my--" "Lieutenant Seymour!" She drew herself up with great hauteur, letting the cloak drop about her waist. "Madam!" "Only my friends call me Katharine." "And am I not, may I not be, one of your friends?" "Well, yes--I suppose so; but you are so young." "I am just twenty-seven, madam, and you, I suppose, are--" "Never be ungallant enough to suppose a young lady's age. You may do those things in Philadelphia, if you like, but 't is not the custom here. Besides, I mean too young a friend; you have not known me long enough, that is." "Long enough! I have known you ever since Tuesday of last week." "And this is Friday,--just ten days, ten long days!" she replied triumphantly. "Long days!" he cried. "Very short ones, for me." "Long or short, sir, do you think you can know me in that period? Is it possible I am so easily fathomed?" she went on, smiling. Now it is ill making love in a rowboat at best, and when one is in earnest and the other jests it is well-nigh impossible; so to these remarks Lieutenant Seymour made no further answer, save viciously to ply the oars and drive the boat rapidly toward the landing. Miss Katharine gazed vacantly about the familiar river upon whose banks she had been born and bred, and, finally noticing the sun had gone down, closing the short day, she once more drew her cloak closely about her and resumed the neglected conversation. "Won't you please stop looking at me in that manner, and won't you please row harder, or is your strength all centred in your gaze?" "I am rowing as fast as I can, Miss Wilton, especially with this--" "Oh, I forgot your wounded shoulder! Does it hurt? Does it pain you? I am so sorry. Let me row." "Thank you, no. I think I can manage it myself. The only pain I have is when you are unkind to me." At that moment, to his great annoyance, his oar stuck fast in the oar-lock, and he straightway did that very unsailorly thing known as catching a crab. Katharine Wilton laughed. There was music in her voice, but this time it did not awaken a responsive chord in the young man. Extricating his oar violently, he silently resumed his work. "Do you like crabs, Mr. Seymour?" she said with apparent irrelevance. "I don't like catching them, Miss Wilton," he admitted ruefully. "Oh, I mean eating them! We were talking about your appetite, were we not? Well, Dinah devils them deliciously. I 'll have some done for you," she continued with suspicious innocence. Seymour groaned in spirit at her perversity, and for the first time in his life felt an intense sympathy with devilled crabs; but he continued his labor in silence and with great dignity. "What am I to infer from your silence on this important subject, sir? The subject of edibles, which everybody says is of the first importance--to men--does not appear to interest you at all!" He made no further reply.