“As often as you will let me. I am free every afternoon, you know, and if I followed my tactless inclination I’d come seven times a week. However, don’t look alarmed; I’m only coming once a week—” He sat up suddenly, his eyes sparkling. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “What a beauty!” Patience followed his eyes, which were directed ardently upon a sail-boat skimming up the river. “Are you fond of sailing?” she asked. “Am I? I could live in a boat. I’d rather be in a boat than—than even talking to you.” “Well, you shall be inside of a boat in five minutes,” she said good-naturedly. “Wait until I get my hat and gloves!” “Being only the nurse,” she said, as they walked down the wooded slope to the boathouse, “I don’t know that I have any right to take liberties, but I will, all the same. I feel that it is an act of charity.” “It certainly is, and you really are an angel.—She’s a good boat,” he said approvingly, a few moments later, as he unreefed the sail. Patience arranged the cushions and made herself comfortable, and they shot up the river in a stiff breeze. She watched Steele curiously. He looked as happy as a schoolboy. His hat was on the back of his head, his eyes shone. Once as he threw back his head and laughed, he bore an extraordinary resemblance to the Laughing Faun. “I’ve lived in a boat for a whole summer,” he said, “and never seen a woman nor wanted to, nor a man neither, for that matter. There are three months in the year when I want nothing better in life than this.” His large cool eyes moved slowly to hers. “Still,” he added, “I do believe it’s an improvement to have you here. What fun if we had a little yacht and could sail like this all summer! I think we’d hit it off, don’t you? We shouldn’t either of us talk too much.” Patience laughed. It was impossible to coquet with Steele. He took no notice of it. “I should be afraid you’d tip me over if you got tired of me.” “I shouldn’t get tired of you,” he said seriously. “I never met a woman I liked half as much. You’re lovely to look at, and your mind is so interesting to study. Guess I’d better come about.” They sailed for two hours. The wind fell, and they talked in a desultory fashion. They discovered that they had the same literary gods, and occasionally Steele waxed enthusiastic. He had read more than most men of forty; nor was there anything youthful about the fixity of his opinions. “Oh, dear!” said Patience, suddenly, “why did we never meet before? I like you better than any one I ever knew. I’ve been hunting all my life for a mental companion.” “So have I,” he said, smiling at her in his half cynical way, “and now I’ve found you I don’t propose to let you go; not even next winter.” He confided to her that he had written a good deal, although he had published nothing. Patience wondered where he had found time to accomplish so much.