At the sound of his tread she turned, and he came forward quickly, smiling and offering his hand. "Good afternoon," he said, in his conventional way, "it is rather nice here, isn't it? I hope I do not intrude?"
"No," she said, and answered his smile, "I am glad to share it. Did the Phantom bring you?"
"No, the Success left me." His gesture called her attention to the small mail steamer moving westward. "I ran over about a little matter of business. I saw young Silas on the dock with that old character Mason. The boy is growing."
"Yes, he lives out of doors so much. They are great playfellows, and I can trust Mason. He takes him rowing every afternoon, often twice, out of the shadow of the Head into the sunshine."
"But you,"—he paused with a light emphasis, looking down into her sweet, inscrutable face,—"you stay in the shadow. Do you know what I thought of just now, coming up the walk? It was Andromeda—chained."
"You had the sea," she looked about her thoughtfully, "and this bluff; Andromeda—perhaps—but without a Perseus."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes." She met the unmistakable admiration in his eyes with a clear look and a slight uplifting of her oval chin. "It is too bad, but the comparison is misapplied."
She moved towards the doorway. He waited a moment, watching her in mingled amusement and pique. "Another touch-me-not," he told himself; "I had not thought she could be so like her sister. Don't let me take you back," he said aloud, following a step; "it is pleasanter here, away from the interminable buzz of those saws."
But she moved on into the building. He joined her. "We are sailing over to Tacoma tonight," he said. "The yacht club is arranging a little hop. Come with us. Go over the harbor with me, when the Success picks me up on the return trip. I will give you a merry time, I promise you."