“Aye, I ken your nairves trouble ye,” he replied, lumbering to his feet, “and I'll no disobleege ye, if the leddy will excuse me?” turning to her. Miss Elliston, who had not looked at Stefan since his outburst, murmured her consent, and the Scot departed. Stefan exploded into a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven! Isn't he maddening?” he exclaimed, reassembling his brushes. “Isn't he the most fatuous idiot that ever escaped from his native menagerie? Did you hear him commence to criticize my work? The oaf! I'm afraid--” glancing at her face--“that I swore at him, but he deserved it for butting in like that, and he couldn't understand what I said.” His tone was slightly, very slightly, apologetic. “I don't think that's the point, is it?” asked the girl, in a very cool voice. She was experiencing her first shock of disappointment in him, and felt unhappy; but she only appeared critical. “What do you mean?” he asked, dashed. “Whether he understood or not.” She was still looking away from him. “It was so unkind and unnecessary to break out at the poor man like that--and,” her voice dropped, “so horribly rude.” “Well,” Stefan answered uncomfortably, “I can't be polite to people like that. I don't even try.” “No, I know you don't. That's what I don't like,” Mary replied, even more coldly. She meant that it hurt her, obscured the ideal she was constructing of him, but she could not have expressed that. He painted for a few minutes in a silence that grew more and more constrained. Then he threw down his brush. “Well, I can't paint,” he exclaimed in an aggrieved tone, “I'm absolutely out of tune. You'll have to realize I'm made like that. I can't change, can't hide my real self.” As she still did not speak, he added, with an edge to his voice, “I may as well go away; there's nothing I can do here.” He stood up. “Perhaps you had better,” she replied, very quietly. Her throat was aching with hurt, so that she could hardly speak, but to him she appeared indifferent. “Good-bye,” he exclaimed shortly, and strode off. For some time she remained where he had left her, motionless. She felt very tired, without knowing why. Presently she went to her cabin and lay down. Mary did not see Stefan again until after the midday meal, though by the time she appeared on deck he had been waiting and searching for her for an hour. When he found her it was in an alcove of the lounge, screened from the observation of the greater part of the room. She was reading, but as he came toward her she looked up and closed her book. Before he spoke both knew that their relation to each other had subtly changed. They were self-conscious; the hearts of both beat. In a word, their quarrel had taught them their need of each other. He took her hand and spoke rather breathlessly.