"Mother dear, I tell you it doesn't matter," laughed the girl. "He has gone into a trance and he probably won't come out of it till the first fog. By that time, perhaps I shall feel entirely informal."
Captain James stood on the pier when the boat approached Brewster's Island. Kathleen caught sight of him and waved her handkerchief.
"Mother, it's time to go and make passes over Philip," she said. "He'll have to wake up."
Mrs. Fabian went to the guest and touched him on the arm. For an hour and a half he had not addressed them.
He started.
"We're there, Phil," she said.
He followed her, and glanced at Kathleen with a sensation of guilt. He seized the bags with an alacrity intended to offset his preoccupation.
"It's a wonderful bay," he said.
Kathleen was not regarding him. She was leaning over the rail, waving again toward a tall lean man on the wharf, who smiled, well-pleased, and jerked his head in her direction.