Rose, meanwhile, was having a different sort of talk with Mr. Bouché; an American, despite his French name. He was a handsome fellow, stood well up in his class, and was proficient in more than West Point learning; but as much adrift as any unpiloted boat in all matters of faith, and some of practice. Why he sought out Rose Kindred (as he had done persistently from the day she came) it would be hard to tell, unless from that peculiar masculine contrariness which, as Mrs. Ironwood phrased it, "makes Arctic men always swear by the South Pole." It was Mr. Bouché's special delight to get Rose away from everyone else, find her a splendid seat in some leafy nook, throw himself down on the grass where he must needs look up and so could properly gaze into her face, and then draw her into an argument. I do not know that Rose was more wedded to her opinions than other women, but she knew what she believed, which they do not all. And when the point was of importance she could fight, and fight well; zeal and love of the truth holding their own fearlessly against more polished weapons. Even as did the old "Queen's Arm" in the hand of one of her ancestors at Concord. On this particular afternoon, every place seemed taken. Gee's Point, of course, but also the seat by the river edge, and the almost unscalable rocks, and the grey stones that lie about the way to Battery Knox. "Never mind," Rose said. "I am not tired. I would just as leave walk." "Tired! You? No," said Mr. Bouché; "you are the most rested creature that ever lived. But I am a lazy fellow, and I want a comfortable place, where you can lecture me." "Upon your laziness?" "Upon what you will. I need it all round." "There will not be time for an all-round lecture before parade." "Bother parade!" said Mr. Bouché. "Why need you remind a fellow of parade, just when he's happy? Here--come this way. Now we can dive through these bushes--look out for your dress, Miss Rose!--and we can sit on the rock and be out of the way of all the spoons. And Catkins himself couldn't find us." Laughing at him, guarding her dress, following through the tangle like a true fresh-air girl, Rose presently forgot everything in the loveliness that was all about. Behind them, trees and bushes were both shade and screen; but in front there was only rock, river, and hill. The grey ledge on which they stood took a sudden dip almost at their feet, and went down, down, sheer and smooth, with little to break the line till it ended in a low fringe of riverside bushes. And the stream itself, curling rapidly round Gee's Point, went in full flow through the broadening channel towards Anthony's Nose and the "Race." One or two sailing vessels beat up against the breeze; from under the fringe of bushes came the measured dip of oars. The east-side hills, with their wavy outline, caught the full glory of the sinking sun. "Oh, how beautiful!" Rose cried.