One quiet afternoon, early in August, she was sailing alone down toward Sorrento. It was one of those brilliant New England days when every detail of water and sky shone clear as an amethyst. Here and there a sail cut a sharp yellow rhomboid from the velvet woods. Patricia listened idly to the lapping of the tiny waves and found herself thinking again rather uncomfortably of the one person who had caught her off her guard and kept her there. If he had only stayed in Philadelphia one week more, she could at least have retired with drums beating and colors flying. A sound distracted her. She looked to leeward under the lifting sail and on her bow, well out in the open off Stave Island, she could make out the lines of an overturned canoe and two figures in the water. She quickly loosed the sheet and shifted her helm and bore down rapidly upon the unfortunates. She could see a man bearing upon one end of the canoe lifting the other into the air, trying to get the water out; but each time he did so, a bull terrier dog swam to the gunwale and overturned it again. She sped by to leeward and, skilfully turning her little craft upon its heel, came up into the wind alongside. "How do you do?" said the moistful person, smiling. The hair was streaked down into his eyes. He hardly wondered that she didn't recognize him. "Mr. Crabb!" she said at last, rather faintly, "how did you happen----" "It was the dog," he said cheerfully. "I thought he understood canoes." "He might have drowned you. Why, it's Jack Masters' 'Teddy,'" she cried. "Here, Teddy, come aboard at once, sir." She bent over the low freeboard and by dint of much hauling managed to get him in. In the meantime, the catboat had drifted away from the canoe. Crabb had at last succeeded in getting in and was now bailing with his cap. "Won't you come over?" shouted Patricia. "Oh, I'm all right," he returned. "It was the dog I was worried about." Then for the first time he was aware that the paddle had drifted off and was now floating a hundred yards away. "I'm sorry, but my paddle is adrift." So Patricia, amid much barking from the rejuvenated Teddy, came alongside again. There sat the bedraggled and dripping Crabb in three inches of water, his empty hands upon the gunwales, looking rather foolishly up at the blue eyes that were smiling rather whimsically down. She could not resist the temptation to banter him. Had she prayed for vengeance, nothing could have been sent to her sweeter than this. "You look rather--er--glum," she said. "I'm not," he replied, calmly. "I've not been so happy in months." "What on earth is there to prevent my sailing off and leaving you?" she laughed. "Nothing," he said. "I'm all right. I'll swim for the paddle when I'm rested." "Have you thought I might take that with me, too?" she asked sweetly. "All right," he laughed, trying to suppress the chattering teeth. "Somebody'll be along presently." "Don't be too sure. You're really very much at my mercy."