"Well, you told me to talk. I don't want to talk about Zuleika. Oh, Mitsos, look how far we are out! There is Nauplia behind us. We must go back!" "No, not yet." "But we must! It will take us an hour or more to get back! Please let us go back, Mitsos?" Mitsos sat still a moment. "Tell me you don't want to go back," he said, in a whisper. "Of course I don't; why should I tell you that? I should like to be thus with you always, you alone, and no other." Mitsos sprang up. "I'll put about," he said. There were two or three moments of confusion, as the heavy sail flapped and shook. The wind had veered a point towards the east, and they could get back in a couple of tacks. Mitsos stood up till the boat had settled down on the homeward journey, and then, with the tiller in one hand, he sat down again by Suleima's side. "It will be fine weather now," he said, "and will you come out with me again? You tell me you like it." Suleima nestled a little closer to him. "Yes, I like it," she said, "but we must not go too often. But if you care to, you can come to the wall in fine weather always, and I will tell you whether it is possible. And, Mitsos, next time we go out bring your spear and resin, and let me see you fish. I should like to see you do that. Do you catch many?" "The devil fly away with the fish!" said Mitsos. "I would sooner talk to you." "How funny! I would sooner you fished; and, you see, we can talk, too. Will you let me help?" Mitsos took up one of her hands again. "It would be a heavy net you could draw in!" he said. "You have never felt the tug of a shoal." "A whole shoal?" asked Suleima. "How many fish go to the shoal?" Mitsos laughed. "Fifty for each of your fingers," he said, "and a hundred to spare. Sometimes they all swim together against the net, and though they are very little, many of them are strong, and pull like a horse. I cut my finger to the bone once against the net-rope. Look, here is the mark." He held up his great brown hand, and Suleima traced with her little finger a white scar running up to the second joint of his forefinger. "How horrid!" she said, concernedly, still drawing her finger up and down his. "Did it bleed much?" "Half a bucketful. I must put the boat on the other tack. Take care; the sail will come across again." The air struck cold as they went more into the wind, and Suleima wrapped her black bernouse more closely round her and nestled under shelter of the lad. "You are cold?" he asked, suddenly. "No, Mitsos, not if you sit like that. But isn't it ice to you? Have another piece of Rahat-la-koom?" [Illustration: "SHE KISSED HIM LIGHTLY ON THE FOREHEAD"] Mitsos grinned, showing his white teeth. "That will keep out the cold finely," he said. "Give it me yourself!"