"Home, as you call it, is but another lump of mother earth set down under colder skies," he said. "And our skins over there aren't all white although they ought to be. I like new countries. If I possess the indolence of a Kaffir, the push and the enterprise of youth appeals to me. A young country is unspoilt; it offers immense possibilities. And the route isn't mile-stoned with precedents which may not be ignored. Incidentally, there are greater facilities for getting on without interest, and sometimes with an infinitesimal degree of energy." "No," she contradicted; "it is seldom the lazy man who gets on out here." "Don't discourage me," he pleaded, and turned a smiling face towards her, and looked deep into her eyes. "I'm for taking the smooth path all the way. Why not? Why make such a business of living? It ought to be quite a simple thing." He was standing very close to her, still holding her hand which he pressed against his side. Her face in the deepening dusk showed misty and uncertain of outline, and the eyes meeting his in the dimness were just dark shadows glowing in their white setting; but he knew that the soft pensive look was in them which he liked to see there had the light been sufficient to reveal it. "I wonder if I might kiss you?" he said, and bent forward in the warm dusk and found her lips. "It was sweet of you to allow that," he said. "A little kindness is a touch of heaven to a lonely man." He was not to know how much more that kiss signified to the girl than it did to him. No man had ever kissed her before that night. She did not then respond to the caress, but she accepted it. As his lips descended warmly upon her mouth she felt her face grow hot, and was grateful to the darkness for hiding her confusion; her heart gave a bound and started racing at a great rate; it seemed to her that, standing so close, he must hear it pounding inside her chest. If he observed her emotion he did not remark on it. The touch of the cool unresponding lips with the salt flavour of the sea upon them moved him unaccountably; but some quality that was compounded of the audacity and sensitiveness of youth, nicely balanced with the discretion of a more matured mind, decided him to ignore the little episode until he had further determined its importance in relation to events. It was never wise to precipitate things. "Let's get off the rocks," he said. "There's our little strip of sand waiting for us up yonder. The moon will be later to-night. But it doesn't matter, does it? We're in no hurry. And anyway we should never get back in the dark without coming to grief." He tucked his hand under her arm and assisted her over the rocks. She slipped once, and clutched at him desperately, and nearly upset his balance as well as her own. When with difficulty he maintained his ground and succeeded in holding her up, they remained for a moment or two with his arms about her and laughed recklessly over the averted mishap.