John looked at her curiously.
"But you must concoct something with more staying power," he went on. "At dinner you were scintillating. Crossing the field just now the light had all gone out."
Sylvia shook her head slightly. What a comfort it would be if she could talk out her perplexities to him and with him.
"You know," she returned, "it is only good friends who can indulge in the luxury of silence when they are together."
"Very pretty," he replied. "It's very gratifying to believe myself more en rapport with you than either Edna or your aunt."
"I wish you'd go and sail the boat," said Sylvia suddenly.
"I will, coming back," returned Dunham tranquilly, "for we shall probably have another passenger. This is our first tête-à-tête, remember."
"No, our second. I do remember," replied Sylvia.
In those forlorn days at the Association when he was always in her thought, what would have been her pleasure to look forward certainly to the present situation. The boat had left the harbor now and was bounding along its liquid path with the speed which made it the pride of Benny's heart.
John, leaning against the gunwale, continued to regard her.