"I suppose not," admitted Jack, resignedly. "That is just what Holworthy always says. I tell him he is a prig, but of course he is right, and so are you. But nevertheless, childish or not, I cannot help admiring such a man as Charlie Rivers for the qualities he has shown. He has been so strong and patient and loyal,--oh! such a _man_. No, even if it is all wasted as you say, you can never convince me that I ought not to love him for it." There was silence for a moment, and then came the admission very softly. "No, I don't think I can." Jack's finger-nails went into his palms again. A moment later she arose and said: "Really I ought not to keep my aunt up any longer. I must say good-night, Mr. Rattleton." Jack jumped to his feet. "I beg your pardon for staying so late," he said. "The time has gone fast. And--er--by-the-way," he continued, a little awkwardly. "I have done wrong in talking so much about Rivers' trouble. Of course, I really know nothing about it, and it is none of my affair, you know, anyway. Please don't think that I am in the habit of gossiping about other men in this way. I got rather carried away to-night, I am afraid. I beg you won't say anything about it to any one." "I never make conversation out of such things, Mr. Rattleton," she answered. "You may depend that I shall not repeat it to a soul. And now good-night." She looked into his eyes with a radiant smile, and held out her hand. Jack took it as if he were afraid of breaking the little thing, and then dropped it quickly. "Good-night," he said, shortly, and went down the steps and over the lawn, followed by Mr. Blathers. She stood for a moment and watched him putting great stretches of moonlit grass behind his long thin legs, the little dark figure trotting beside him. Then she went in, threw her arms around her aunt's neck, and kissed her. "Has Mr. Rattleton gone?" asked Mrs. West. "He seems like a nice fellow." "Yes, and he is one. When I first met him, I thought him easy enough to understand, and like every other boy; but I can't quite make him out now. At any rate he is a species new to me and an interesting one"; and she ran up-stairs to her room, singing. Jack Rattleton strode along the river bank and out to the end of the Pequot pier. He stood there for a minute, looking over the river and Sound, then sat down on a bench. That enchantress, the moon, was aided in her fairy work by the riding lights of the dark fleet of yachts at anchor, and by the colored sailing lights of the becalmed late comers drifting in from the Sound. But the lights only hurt his eyes. He had sat there some time when he heard his name spoken. "Beautiful, isn't it," said Holworthy, behind him. "Got a weed?" asked Jack. "Yes." "Give it to me." He bit off the end of the cigar nervously, and lit it with thick puffs. "Gad!" he muttered, "I'm glad I'm not training for the crew. How did he ever stand it! But Charlie Rivers is a very different breed of cats from me."