“But who'll take the punt round to the ladies' landing? Ladies aren't allowed through Parsons' Pleasure, and I hardly trust you to come round by yourself.” Nan eyed him doubtfully. “You may be a good pub, but you're a rotten punter.” “Dash it all, you needn't rub it in. If the worst comes to the worst, I shall only get a wetting.” “You're sure you can swim?” “Quite sure, thanks.” “Well, good-by, and good luck. I should hate to lose you after all these years of parting.” As they struck out along the path across the island and the screen of bushes shut him from their view, Jehane felt her arm taken. “Don't you like him, Janey?” “What I've seen of him, yes.” “I was afraid you didn't.” “Whatever made you think that?” “Because he thought it. I could feel that he thought it.” “But I did nothing.” “You wore your touch-me-not-manners, Janey. You looked so tragic and black. I had to talk my head off to fill in the awkwardnesses.” “I know you did; but I wasn't sure of the reason.” Nan glanced up quickly and her eyes filled; the blood surged into her face and throat; her lips trembled. She pressed her cheek coaxingly against the tall girl's shoulder. “You foolish Jehane; you're jealous. Why, Billy and I use to eat blackberries out of each other's hands.” Then Jehane relented. Drawing Nan to her with swift, protecting passion, she kissed the wet eyes and pouting mouth. “You dear little Nan, I _was_ jealous. You're so sweet and gentle; no one could help loving you. I was angry with myself--angry because I'm so different.” “So much cleverer,” Nan whispered. “I don't want to be clever; I'd give everything I possess to look as good and happy as you.” “But you are good. If you weren't, we shouldn't all love you.” “_All?_ It's enough that you do.” When Barrington rounded the island, he found them standing oddly near together; then he noticed a moist ball of handkerchief crushed in Nan's free hand--and he guessed. CHAPTER III--ALL THE WAY FOR THIS Jehane had been granted her wish and she was frightened. The river stretched before her, a lonely ghost, glimmering between soaked fields and beaten countryside. The rain-fall must have been heavy in the hills, for the river was swollen and discolored: branches, torn from overhanging trees, danced and vanished in the swiftly moving current. With evening a breeze had sprung up, which came fitfully in gusts, bowing tall rushes that waded in the stream, so that they whispered “Hush.” In the distance, above clumped tree-tops, the spires of Oxford speared the watery sky; red stains spread along white flanks of clouds--clouds that looked like chargers spurred by invisible riders. The man of whom she knew so little and whom she desired was standing at her side. She was terrified. She had gained her wish--at last they were alone together.