"Don't call him a freak." Gwen spoke with some asperity.
"Well, he's an oddity, at least. I can't make him out. To be sure I don't know him very well, but it strikes me as queer that a man should want to live on this island. It's all very well for a summer holiday, but in winter, no, thank you. Yes, I shall be glad to get back, to see the fellows at the club, and to put on a different sort of rig from this. It won't be bad to see the inside of a theatre, either, and go to a first-class dinner, or a German."
Gwen smiled. She did not despise these things herself. "One looks at life very differently in the city, doesn't one?" she remarked.
"Yes, there's the fun of it. When I do a thing I want to do it thoroughly. When I'm at home I do as my neighbors do; when I am here I try to follow the example of those around me."
"Sensible man! So we will not read any more. Come, let's go around to the other side, and see what it looks like. We'd better not go back through the woods, for after the sun goes down it gets pretty dark and spooky in there, so we will go back by the road."
"You're not afraid? Not when I'm with you?" He spoke tenderly, and more than ever Gwen declared for the road.
"Not afraid," she said, "but it takes longer, and I don't want to miss my supper, nor do I want you to miss yours."
"A good substantial reason," returned Mr. Mitchell approvingly. "I hope it will be a pleasant day to-morrow." He looked at the sky. "Are you a good weather prophet, Miss Whitridge?"
"Not very, though I should say it would be warm. To-day is warmer than any we have had for a long time. Any special reason to be curious about the weather, Mr. Mitchell?"
"I promised Miss Fuller I'd row her over to Jagged Island. It's an engagement of long standing, you know, and the time is getting short."