He made a back of the chair, spread the rug and installed her solicitously. Then he camped down not too far away, not too near, pulled his cap over his eyes, locked his hands over his knees and stared out toward the horizon that, somehow, attracts at such moments. A wind that was already cold played over the frosty waves and sent little scurries of sand twisting along the beach. "Have a chocolate?" "Thanks." "Jelly or nut?" "Nut. Thanks." They munched in silence. "That's the trouble with summer," said Skippy at last. "Yes, isn't it?" "It's rotten." "Oh why must everything end?" said Vivi wildly. "I can't realize that to-morrow--" "You'll forget, men always forget." Skippy shook his head. "Yes. You'll write a letter or two and then heigh ho!" "Look here, you don't mean that," said Skippy, turning on her. Vivi's eyes dropped before his righteous indignation. "No--no I don't mean that." "Then don't talk that way--especially just now." "Forgive me--Jack?" "What?" "You do forgive me?" "Of course." "You're going to do wonderful things at school," said Vivi, trying to be brave, "and I'm going to be so proud to think I know you." "Do you think they'll let you come down to the Andover game?" "I don't know about the game--but the Prom!" "Gee, you'll be a knockout there!" They ate more chocolates, while Skippy debated how to lead the conversation into the softer strain before bestowing on the object of his affections (for value exchanged, of course) the sacred emblem of the Philomathean Debating Society and bringing forth the Lawrenceville banner which was tightly folded up in his bulging hip pocket. "I suppose you'll go back now to Dolly Travers," said Vivi, whose appetite for verbal expressions of sentiment was still far from being satisfied. "And forget all about--about this wonderful week." "Women are fickler than men," said Skippy gloomily. "Not--not always." "Don't believe it." "Out of sight out of mind." "You know better than that," said Skippy, digging into his change pocket for the pin. "How do I know?" said Vivi encouragingly. "Because--" Suddenly Skippy remembered. His fingers relaxed on the pin. He brought forth his hand. "Say, you promised to read my hand you know." "Did I?" "Sure you did." Miss Vivi sat up and carefully pillowed the squat calloused hand in her soft one. For a moment she studied it, turning it over and back again, running her finger meditatively over the mounds and depressions. "Well?" said Skippy anxiously. "Shall I tell all?" "Everything." "You have a very strong will--very obstinate and not easily influenced. Ambition will be your god and you will sacrifice--" Vivi hesitated. "I say, go on." "So far is true, isn't it?" "Well, pretty true," said Skippy, who began to enjoy his portrait. "You will sacrifice everything to your ambition--friends, family, the woman who loves you." "Oh, I say!"