"You may not have any talent for doing any one special thing," he interrupted hotly, "but you, yourself, are so perfect, such a work of art. It must take genius to be just you. Let us say you are genius in the abstract." He smiled at her in sheer pleasure at his own happy phrase. She rose and putting her sketch on the table, smiled down upon him. "You're only a baby, after all, aren't you? I think I shall call you my changeling. Come, changeling, how would you like to take a little stroll down to the lake? It is only a moment's walk from here. We will take some cushions and you can lie back in my canoe and I'll paddle you about for a while." He stood up eagerly and held out his arms for the gay cushions which she threw at him from the chaise-longue. "I shall have to learn how to walk all over again," he laughed as they started down the steps. "Didn't I say you were a baby?" She took his arm with a protecting gesture. They strolled slowly forward while the brilliant foliage flaunted high overhead and formed an exotic carpet beneath their feet. From an upper window Regina looked after them and shook a disapproving head. "Dio mio, it begins all over again," she sighed, "and this time with a babe! Will she never be content to settle down? And I who had such fine hopes for the Signor Marchese, so rich and so very respectable!" * * * * * There's an intimacy about a canoe which once shared, can change a slight acquaintance into something warm and perhaps enduring. Anne and Alexis had reached a focus where it seemed to fuse their points of contact perilously. Not that either of them had analyzed it as yet. Alexis as he lay back upon his cushions, was conscious only of the beauty of burnished hair, glamorous eyes and skin, of the god-like frame of trees and lake and sky; the unutterable bliss of such companionship in such surroundings. To him it was like a divine interlude from Purgatory. Anne was more experienced in such affairs. Her instinct had long ago hinted of danger. But she chose to ignore it, trusting to practice and savoir faire to avoid forthcoming pitfalls. As before, she determined to remain mistress of the situation. But it was only natural that the boy's budding worship should stir her. After all, he was no ordinary young man but a genius with a power to move thousands, and had, moreover, a compelling, if somewhat neurotic, personal appeal. And he possessed one quality which Anne had never been able to resist. That of physical beauty. With the classical features of a Greek faun, he combined a fragility, a certain decadent charm, which intrigued her fatigued senses. And the morning flew by with flashing swiftness. All too soon, they were crunching back over the regal carpet of tinted leaves which showered down upon their heads from the trees like a flock of brittle butterflies. "I feel like Danae," laughed Anne, as she shook down a golden cluster from a branch above her head.