He made no reply. She laughed at his frowning brows. Once more his eyes were almost black. She forced humor into her own eyes lest he receive a hint of that curious sensation of something rising in her veins. But her laugh was infused with that voluptuous warmth bordering on hysteria by which young girls betray themselves when indulging in prolonged attacks of giggles. “You really believe it, you know. One night after a ball, when our fine clothes were new, you begged me to slip out and row on these meadows with you, and you had a Spanish cape over your blue satin coat and white——” “You are rather unfair, you know.” “Not a bit of it.” Her voice rose. “We’re merely reconstructing the past, not building up any kind of future. No obstacles in those days, although my irate papa probably boxed my ears when I got back and marched you off to the library to ask your intentions——” “I’d hardly have put him to the trouble!” Her eyes glowed. “Of course not!” she said softly. “Of course not!” “Do you love me?” he asked harshly. She shrank back and pulled the hood of her cape over her face. “You are Geoffrey Dedham asking that, of course.” “I’ll be damned if I am. What’s come over you? I thought you were above flirting?” “I am!” Her voice was muffled by more than the hood. “Put that hood back.” But she covered what was still visible of her face with her hand. “I’m frightened,” she whispered. “Terribly frightened.” “I’ve no intention of touching you. I was a fool or worse to come out here with you, but it will stop at that——” “I’m not afraid of you. You don’t understand, of course.” “Oh, yes, I do!” “But you can’t—you mustn’t——Oh! _What_——” Gita for the first time since she was an angry child burst into strangled weeping. He had been resting on his oars. The boat suddenly shot ahead. “Cry it out,” he said grimly. But his voice ended on an uncontrollable note of triumph. “I feel so strange,” sobbed Gita. “I—I—don’t know what to think. I never——” “No, never! Sap rising.” “What do you mean by that?” She pushed back her hood and tried to stab him with her eyes. But they were full of glittering tears. “You know quite as well as I do. And as soon as Eustace is well you’ll put it up to him squarely.” She flung her head down on her knees, convulsive sobs wrenching her body. “I won’t! I won’t! I don’t want to marry you!” “Oh, yes, you do. You never really wanted anything before in your life.” He rowed toward the shore. “I’d hate you——” “You would not!” “I do hate you——” “That’s all right. Hate me as much as you like. It amounts to the same thing.” She began to tremble violently. “They say—you feel horribly when you come to after drowning,” she stammered through her chattering teeth. “I—feel—just like that.” “Of course. You’re coming to life.” “It’s not a—poetical feeling at all—and I must blow my nose!” “Do. Have you a handkerchief?” “Yes, I have.” She used it. “I wish I’d really drowned.” Her teeth were still chattering.