Rosina laughed a little. He turned towards her and smiled.
“Then you will forgive me?”
“Yes, this one time more. But never, never again.”
He turned to the lake and consumed five minutes in assimilating her remark. Then his look came back to her.
“I was awake so much last night that my eyes burn me; do they show it?”
She looked into his eyes, and they burned indeed—burned with a latent glow that forced her own to lower their lids.
“Do they look strangely to you?” he asked.
“No,” she said in a low tone.
“That is odd, because in all my life they have never look at any one as they look at you to-night.”
She drew herself together suddenly.