He came to consciousness after a restless night. The sun was streaming in at the window. He felt dull and heavy, with a slight headache and a weariness in all his muscles. Worst of all, Nan, in a ravishing pink fluffy affair, was bending over him, her eyes dancing with amusement and mischief. "And how is my little madcap this morning?" she inquired with mock solicitude. This stung Keith to some show of energy, and he got up. The sun was really very bright. A dash of cold water made him feel better. Enthusiasm began to flow back like a tide. The importance of the evening before reasserted its claims on his imagination. As he dressed he told Nan all about it. In the midst of a glowing eulogy of their prospects, he checked himself with a chuckle. "Guess what the Sherwoods are," said he. Nan, who had been half listening up to this time, gave him her whole attention. "A gambler! A common gambler!" she repeated after him, a little dismayed. "I felt the same way for a minute or so," he answered her tone cheerfully. "But after all I remembered--you must remember--that society here is very mixed. And anyway, Sherwood is no 'common gambler'; I should say he was a most _un_common gambler!" He chuckled at his little joke. "All sorts of people are received here. We've got to get used to that. And certainly no one could hope anywhere to find nicer--more presentable--people." She nodded, but with a reservation. "Surely nowhere would you find kinder people," went on Keith. "See how they took us in!" "Look out they don't take you in, Milton," she interjected suddenly. Keith, brought up short, sobered at this. "That is unjust, Nan," he said gravely. She said nothing, but showed no signs of having been convinced. After her first need had passed, Nan Keith's natural reserve had asserted itself. This was the result of heredity and training, as part of herself, something she could not help. Its tendency was always to draw back from too great or too sudden intimacies. There was nothing snobbish in this; it was a sort of instinct, a natural reaction. She liked Mrs. Sherwood, admired her slow, complete poise, approved her air of breeding and the things by which she had surrounded herself. The older woman's kindness had struck in her a deep chord of appreciation. But somehow circumstances had hurried her too much. Her defensive antagonism, not to Mrs. Sherwood as a person, but to sudden intimacy as such, had been aroused. It had had, in her own mind, no excuse. She knew she ought to be grateful and cordial; she felt that she was not quite ready. The fact that the Sherwoods had proved to be "common gamblers" gave just the little excuse her conscience needed to draw back a trifle. This, it should be added, was also quite instinctive, not at all a formulated thought. She said nothing for some time; then remarked mysteriously: "Perhaps that's why they go to meet boats." Keith, who was miles beyond the Sherwoods by now, looked bewildered.