Stevens, the skipper, was no problem at all. I had him right on my thumb nail. His like are to be encountered the yacht world over. A punctilious, efficient commander of any kind of a pleasure vessel from two hundred feet to twenty overall length. No great head on him, but a perfect wonder at taking orders and obeying them. And dumb as a bivalve. The owner bothered me far more; partly, as was natural, from the fact that I didn’t get one really fair-and-square look at him. He stood squarely beside Stevens at the wheel, his watch in his palm, and his eyes never off the water ahead. This I did notice, though: his head, in the intensity of his gaze, had a trick of settling forward and down. Not a crouch, but buzzardlike and scouring. Somehow I caught myself fancying that I’d recognize that attitude when I saw it again. Events, however, will prove that I wasn’t quite as smart as I thought I was. But it was as though I had been saving up for the verdict that hit me fairly between the eyes when I finally settled covert attention upon the girl. Sudden is no name for it. Once clear of the harbor, and with the freshing, southerly breeze whipping smartly, she flung aside the disgusting veil with a pleasure as apparent as my own at having her do it. And, eyes dancing to the delight of it all, for a bit of spray was flying, she fairly made me a comrade with the smile of a gleeful child. Now I’m not going to waste any words as to whether such things ever really do happen or not. I’m not even going to slack up my yarn, describing the how, when, or where. The fact remains; and it was real fact. I dug it then and there from somewhere ’way down in some inner chink of me where I’m only half awake. But I never yet was fooled from that quarter. That little girl there on that plush-covered transom was born to be my wife. And the funniest thing about it all was that it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world. There was an “of-courseness” to it that was fairly delicious; and the fact that she herself hadn’t waked to it quite yet was immaterial. The bell brought me back to machinery, and suddenly. I checked her to half speed, and peered ahead for the cause of it. We were just abreast Stepping Stones Light, just to north’ard of it, and with plenty of clear water ahead. I saw nothing to justify any change in speed, especially since up to this time both men had seemed most keen to get every revolution possible out of her. I noticed, however, that they were scanning closely a column of black smoke that was slowly moving along the farther side of Throgg’s Neck. Finally a long puff of white steam showed against the darker smoke, and, some seconds thereafter, the hoarse toot of a whistle told me that a steamer, whose hull was invisible beyond the land, was approaching the turn at Fort Schuyler.