"Do I want to!" He gave her a bear’s hug, and a brother’s kiss. She was still unready to go and stood looking at him whimsically. Then, impulsively, she seized his arm and drew him back under an arc light, and held up her face. "Dougal," she said, "will you answer me something absolutely honestly?" "Sure!" "Do you think I’m pretty?" He studied her a moment, and his lips worked silently. Then he said deliberately: "Well,—I don’t know as I’d call you exactly a _pretty_ woman, but you’re something more than that—" "Cut it out!" she exclaimed dryly; "I know all the rest! I’ve heard it before. Stop before you tell me I have ’fine eyes’ and am good-natured. I know! ’The bride was a distinguished-looking brunette of great grace and dignity, and wore her clothes well!’ Never mind, Dougal, you’re honest, anyway," she added. He opened his mouth to protest, repentance in his eyes, but she blew a kiss at him and darted through the gate. He watched her till she passed through the inner door, where she waved a last time. She walked rapidly on board, went up the stairway, and hesitated by the door of the cabin. A girl passed her, looked back and then returned timidly. "Excuse me, but ain’t you the young lady that works in Mr. Granthope’s office?" she said. "I did, but I’m not there any more. He’s gone out of business," Fancy managed to reply. Her quick eye had recognized the girl as Fleurette. "I’m sorry for that. He’s nice, isn’t he? He was awfully kind to me, and he said it was on account of you. Did you know he wouldn’t even take any money from me?" "Wouldn’t he?" said Fancy. "That’s like him." "And he gave me such a lovely reading, too. It just saved my life, I think, and everything came out just as he said it would, too. Don’t you think he’s awfully good-looking?" "Yes, very." Fancy was breathing hard. "And he’s so good. Why, I ’most fell in love with him, that day. I guess I would have, if I hadn’t been in love already. I was awfully unhappy then. I’m the happiest girl in the world, now! Say, weren’t you awfully fond of him?" "Yes." "I guess he was of you, too. He said some awful nice things about you!" "Did he?" Fancy’s eyes wandered. The girl saw, now, that something was wrong, and evidently wanted to make up for it. She spoke shyly: "Say—there’s something else I always wanted to tell you. I wonder if it would make you mad?" "Go ahead," said Fancy. "You won’t think I’m fooling?" "No." "Well," Fleurette almost whispered, "I think you’re _awful_ pretty!" With that, she turned suddenly and went into the cabin. Fancy went down-stairs slowly, biting her handkerchief. The lower deck was deserted; she looked carefully about, to make sure of it. She glanced down at the water which boiled up from the paddle-wheels and shuddered.