They were drifting down stream under the trees with no sound save a faint rustle from overhead. Strands of moonlight sifted through the foliage, blurring the east bank into shadow. “Do you know what I am thinking of?” Harvey asked in a low tone. She smiled faintly and shook her head. They swung into a patch of moonlight, and for a moment their eyes met; then she looked away and said,-- “We must go back.” “It isn't late,” Harvey remonstrated. “We must go back.” Harvey obediently took up the oars, then hesitated. “Please don't stay here,” she said. They went up the path in silence. The brake stood at the steps, and the other members of the party were laughing and talking on the veranda. Harvey stopped before they left the shadow. Miss Porter walked a few steps, then turned and faced him. “What is the matter?” he asked. “Can't you trust me? Are you afraid of me?” She came forward and laid her hand upon his arm. “Don't misunderstand me,” she said with hesitation. “If I were as sure of myself as I am of you--Come, they are watching us.” An hour later they stood at Mr. Porter's door. “Good night,” said Harvey, but she lingered. “Shall I see you to-morrow?” “Do you think I had better come?” “Why not?” “Perhaps your father--” “I want you to. Anyway,” smiling, “father is in Chicago.” Harvey smiled too. “I'll send the trap for you, and we'll drive--at ten, say. I suppose you are at the hotel.” “Yes,” said Harvey. “Good night.” Mr. Porter's summer home was located on the river bank, something less than a mile from the Truesdale Hotel. The walk was somewhat lonely, and it gave Harvey time to think. At first he was bewildered. She had seemed to be mistress of the situation, but at any rate he had told her nothing about M. & T. affairs. There came into his mind a suspicion that she knew more than she had led him to believe, for she would naturally not let a man who had no claim upon her sway her loyalty to her father. And yet, those eyes were honest. They had looked into his with an expression that would charm away graver doubts than his. “I'll make her tell me,” he thought. “I'll find out to-morrow just what she means, and if--” In spite of himself, Harvey's heart beat fast at thought of the possibilities which lay behind that “if.” From doubt, he drifted back into a review of the evening. He called up pictures of her on the brake, on the boat, or on the shaded path. When he reached the hotel he sat down on the veranda and lighted a cigar. “Yes,” he repeated to himself, “I'll make her tell me.” But in the morning, after a more or less steady sleep, Harvey looked out at the calm sunlight and changed his mind. “I'll wait,” he thought, “and see what happens.”