Bessie looked up startled. John had called her woman. But she recovered from the start,—he had also called her _a_ woman. "Come to understand each other pretty well, haven’t we?" John observed, still looking oceanward, but giving the arm of Bessie what was intended for a meaningful squeeze. "Not at all," sighed Bessie, also still looking oceanward. Hampstead, his thoughts bowling rapidly forward, continued motionless until a white-winged, curious-eyed gull sailed between his line of vision and the water. Then, as if abruptly conscious that Bessie’s answer was not what it should have been, he turned, and at the same time boldly swung her body round till they stood facing each other. Bessie met this gaze unblinkingly for a moment, with her face set and sober; then something in John’s mystified glance touched her keen sense of humor, and she laughed,—her old, roguish laugh,—and flirted the stupid in the face with the end of her boa. "You great big egoist!" she smiled. "There, that’s the first chance I’ve had to use that word. I only learned the difference between it and another last week." "Indeed!" retorted Hampstead. "And when did you learn the difference between me and the other word?" "Well, I’m not sure that there is a difference," she sparred. "Being polite, I just concede it." "Oh," he chuckled. "But," and he was serious again, "you say we don’t understand each other?" "Nonsense; I was only joking. I do understand you; you great, big, egoistical egotist! You are just now absolutely self-centered—and all, all ambition! And I am secretly—secretly, you understand—proud of you!" "And you," said Hampstead, drawing her close again, "are just the truest, most understanding friend a man ever, ever had. You know, Bessie, a fellow can talk to you just like a sister,—a pretty little sister!" he subjoined, when Bessie looked less pleased than he thought she should. "You’ve changed a lot, too, in a year," he conceded, studying her face critically. "When you came into the hotel that night, you struck fear into my heart, and then kind of made it flutter. I said to myself, ’She’s gone—the old Bessie, that could be played with. But here’s a young woman, a handsome young woman, taking her place.’" "Did you say that?" asked Bessie happily. "An exceedingly beautiful woman," went on John, as if stimulated by the interruption. "By George, a very corker of a woman—look at those eyes, those lips, those dimples. Same old dimples, girl!" he laughed emotionally. "And I said, ’Now, here’s a woman, a ripe, wonderful woman, to be made love to—’" "John!" There was in Bessie’s sudden exclamation the surcharged sense of all the proprieties which their relationship involved. "Oh, don’t be alarmed," exclaimed Hampstead, suddenly very earnest and respectful. "I am not leading up to anything. I do not misunderstand the nature of your goodness to me. I am not presuming anything. I am only telling you what I said to myself."