Hilary glanced up sharply, the moonlight on her face, and saw a group of
men in a punt moored under the shadowy bank. One of them raised his
hand and sent a ringing salutation across the water.
Hilary nodded and turned aside. There was annoyance on her face--the
annoyance of one suddenly awakened from a dream of complete enjoyment.
Her companion asked no question. He was bending vigorously to his work.
But she seemed to consider some explanation to be due to him.
"That," she said, "is a man I know slightly. His name is Cosmo Fletcher."
"A friend?" asked the big man.
Hilary coloured a little.
"Well," she said half-reluctantly, "I suppose one would call him that."
* * * * *
"I believe you're in love with Culver's half-breed American," said Cosmo
Fletcher brutally, nearly three weeks later. He had just been rejected
finally and emphatically by the girl who faced him in the stern of his
skiff.
She was very pale, but her eyes were full of resolution as they met his.
"That," she said, "is no business of yours. Please take me back!"
He looked as if he would have liked to refuse, but her steadfast eyes
compelled him. Sullenly he turned the boat.
Dead silence reigned between them till, as they rounded a bend in the
river and came within sight of the house-boat, Fletcher, glancing over
his shoulder, caught sight of a big figure seated on the deck.
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