"Splendid," Minot laughed. "I walk forlorn through this old Spanish town--suddenly a lattice is thrown wide, a fair hand beckons. I dash within." "Thanks for dashing," Miss Meyrick greeted him, on the balcony. "I was finding it dreadfully dull. But I'm afraid the Spanish romance is a little lacking. There is no moonlight, no lattice, no mantilla, no Spanish beauty." "No matter," Minot answered. "I never did care for Spanish types. They flash like a sky-rocket--then tumble in the dark. Now, the home-grown girls--" "And nothing but tea," she interrupted. "Will you have a cup?" "Thanks. Was it really very dull?" "Yes. This book was to blame." She held up a novel. "What's the matter with it?" "Oh--it's one of those books in which the hero and heroine are forever 'gazing into each other's eyes.' And they understand perfectly. But the reader doesn't. I've reached one of those gazing matches now." "But isn't it so in real life--when people gaze into each other's eyes, don't they usually understand?" "Do they?" "Don't they? You surely have had more experience than I." "What makes you think so?" she smiled. "Because your eyes are so very easy to gaze into." "Mr. Minot--you're gazing into them--brazenly. And--neither of us 'understand,' do we?" "Oh, no--we're both completely at sea." "There," she cried triumphantly. "I told you these authors were all wrong." Minot, having begun to gaze, found difficulty in stopping. She was near, she was beautiful--and a promise made in New York was a dim and distant thing. "The railroad folders try to make you believe Florida is an annex to Heaven," he said. "I used to think they were lying. But--" She blushed. "But what, Mr. Minot?" He leaned close, a strange light in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly he glanced over her shoulder, and the light died from his eyes. His lips set in a bitter curve. "Nothing," he said. A silence. "Mr. Minot--you've grown awfully dull." "Have I? I'm sorry." "Must I go back to my book--" She was interrupted by the shrill triumphant cry of a yacht's siren at her back. She turned her head. "The _Lileth_," she said. "Exactly," said Minot. "The bridegroom cometh." Another silence. "You'll want to go to meet him," Minot said, rising. He stood looking at the boat, flashing gaily in the sunshine. "I'll go with you as far as the street." "But--you know Lord Harrowby. Meet him with me." "It seems hardly the thing--" "But I'm not sentimental. And surely Allan's not." "Then I must be," said Minot. "Really--I'd rather not--" They went together to the street. At the parting of the ways, Minot turned to her. "I promised Lord Harrowby in New York," he told her, "that you would have your lamp trimmed and burning." She looked up at him. A mischievous light came into her eyes. "Please--have you a match?" she asked.