There had been no change in his amused eyes, in his voice; yet, sensitive to the imperceptible, the girl looked up quickly. He laughed and straightened up; and presently his eyes grew absent and his sun-burned hand sought his moustache. "Have you misunderstood me?" she asked in a low voice. "How, child?" "I don't know. . . . Shall we walk a little?" When they came to the stone fish-pond she seated herself for a moment on a marble bench, then, curiously restless, rose again; and again they moved forward at hazard, past the spouting fountain, which was a driven well, out of which a crystal column of water rose, geyser-like, dazzling in the westering sun rays. "Nina tells me that this water rises in the Connecticut hills," he said, "and flows as a subterranean sheet under the Sound, spouting up here on Long Island when you drive a well." She looked at the column of flashing water, nodding silent assent. They moved on, the girl curiously reserved, non-communicative, head slightly lowered; the man vague-eyed, thoughtful, pacing slowly at her side. Behind them their long shadows trailed across the brilliant grass. Traversing the grove which encircled the newly clipped lawn, now fragrant with sun-crisped grass-tips left in the wake of the mower, he glanced up at the pretty mermaid mother cuddling her tiny offspring against her throat. Across her face a bar of pink sunlight fell, making its contour exquisite. "Plunkitt tells me that they really laugh at each other in the moonlight," he said. She glanced up; then away from him: "You seem to be enamoured of the moonlight," she said. "I like to prowl in it." "Alone?" "Sometimes." "And--at other times?" He laughed: "Oh, I'm past that, as you reminded me a moment ago." "Then you _did_ misunderstand me!" "Why, no--" "Yes, you did! But I supposed you knew." "Knew what, Eileen?" "What I meant." "You meant that I am _hors de concours_." "I didn't!" "But I am, child. I was, long ago." She looked up: "Do you really think that, Captain Selwyn? If you do--I am glad." He laughed outright. "You are glad that I'm safely past the spooning age?" he inquired, moving forward. She halted: "Yes. Because I'm quite sure of you if you are; I mean that I can always keep you for myself. Can't I?" She was smiling and her eyes were clear and fearless, but there was a wild-rose tint on her cheeks which deepened a little as he turned short in his tracks, gazing straight at her. "You wish to keep me--for yourself?" he repeated, laughing. "Yes, Captain Selwyn." "Until you marry. Is that it, Eileen?" "Yes, until I marry." "And then we'll let each other go; is that it?" "Yes. But I think I told you that I would never marry. Didn't I?" "Oh! Then ours is to be a lifelong and anti-sentimental contract!" "Yes, unless _you_ marry." "I promise not to," he said, "unless you do." "I promise not to," she said gaily, "unless you do."