"That's just it," said Guinevere, glad to expatiate on the subject. "If Mr. Opp could get in a bigger place and get more chances, he'd have a lot more show. But he won't leave Miss Kippy. She's his sister, you know; there is only the two of them, and she's kind of crazy, and has to have somebody take care of her. Mother thinks it's just awful he don't send her to an asylum, but I know how he feels." "Is he a young man?" asked Mr. Hinton. "Well--no, not exactly; he's just seventeen years and two months older than I am." "Oh," said Hinton, comprehensively. There was another long pause, during which Guinevere turned things over in her mind, and Mr. Hinton knocked the ashes from his pipe. "I think girls seem a good deal older than they are, don't you?" she asked presently. "Some girls," Hinton agreed. "How old would you take me for?" "In the dark?" "Yes." "About twelve." "Oh, that's not fair," said Guinevere. "I'm eighteen, and lots of people take me for twenty." "That is when they can see you," said Hinton. Guinevere decided that she did not like him. She leaned back in her corner and tried not to talk. But this course had its disadvantage, for when she was silent he seemed to forget she was there. Once he took a turn up and down the deck, and when he came back, he stood for a long time leaning over the rail and gazing into the water. As he turned to sit down she heard him mutter to himself: "... That no life lives forever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea." Guinevere repeated the words softly to herself, and wondered what they meant. She was still thinking about them when a dim red light in the distance told her they were approaching the Cove. She slipped off the heavy overcoat and began to put on her gloves. "Hello! we are getting in, are we?" asked Hinton, shaking himself into an upright position. "Is that Cove City where the big red light bores into the water like a corkscrew?" They moved to the bow of the boat and watched as it changed its course and made for the opposite shore. "Did you mean," said Guinevere, absently, "that you wanted it all to end like that? For us to just go out into nothing, like the river gets lost in the ocean?" Hinton glanced at her in surprise, and discovered that there was an unusually thoughtful face under the sweeping brim of the red hat. The fact that she was pretty was less evident to him than the fact that she was wistful. His mood was sensitive to minor chords. "I guess you _are_ eighteen," he said, and he smiled, and Guinevere smiled back, and the chubby gentleman, coming suddenly out upon them, went in again and slammed the door. The lights on the landing twinkled brighter and brighter, and presently figures could be seen moving here and there. The steamer, grumbling with every chug of the wheel, was brought around, and the roustabouts crowded along the rail, ready to make her fast.