She pushed out and began to breast the waves, so that later she might safely turn and run before them. The wind sliced the top off an emerald shell and blew it in his face. He laughed, tucked his cap into his pocket, and let his hair blow free. She loved the slight changes that time had wrought in him—just the least suggestion of a wrinkle left on his brow by hard thinking, and a look in his eyes as if he had gazed on things eternal. He kneeled before her as she rowed, so that he could hear what she said. “How’s the coal?” “Haven’t thought of it in three years.” “I thought you were specializing in fuels.” “So I was, long ago. Your father writes me that you have been studying chemistry yourself.” “Oh, just playing. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” “Studying the atom. Stealing the ideas of—” and he named a dozen men. “Those names mean that you have been studying radiochemistry.” “Wonderful you should know them.” “What did you say?” He leaned forward till their lips almost met. “I say it’s wonderful that you should know such names, but quite unnecessary.” She gave an angry pull that jerked him back into his worshipful posture. Then she smiled, reflecting that it would not do to get angry—that anger was unscientific—that anger was proof of ignorance. He thought it unnecessary for a creature of instinct to know even the names of physical chemists, and he was quite right about it. He leaned forward again. “It’s a glorious advantage for you to know some physics and chemistry, since you are going to marry the poor devil who has the responsibility of organizing the Horatio Rich Laboratory.” The oars hung in mid-air with surprise. The watchful west wind swung the boat to leeward and filled it with a foot of water. Instantly she was herself again and running before the wind. In fact the unaffrighted boat ran better for its load, though now another inch would swamp it. Marvin began humorously to bail out with an old tin can that looked like battered silver. But Jean, though guiding her boat with perfect skill, was more deeply plunged in thought than ever she was plunged in her river. Last night she had imagined drowning, how she would set her teeth and stand it. Now she knew that she would have fought like any tigress to reach her mate. She would have set her teeth as in childbirth. She would have struggled to live till she bore him a child. The battle was over. Instinct had won. She was doomed to motherhood, and her heart was singing with terrible joy. Marvin with his battered silver still knelt in the water, reducing it inch by inch. She did not speak to him again as on they swept before that wind and that passion. Nor when they reached the upper island did she swerve in, but swept onward to her own.