"Long days!" he cried. "Very short ones, for me."
"Long or short, sir, do you think you can know me in that period? Is it possible I am so easily fathomed?" she went on, smiling.
Now it is ill making love in a rowboat at best, and when one is in earnest and the other jests it is well-nigh impossible; so to these remarks Lieutenant Seymour made no further answer, save viciously to ply the oars and drive the boat rapidly toward the landing.
Miss Katharine gazed vacantly about the familiar river upon whose banks she had been born and bred, and, finally noticing the sun had gone down, closing the short day, she once more drew her cloak closely about her and resumed the neglected conversation.
"Won't you please stop looking at me in that manner, and won't you please row harder, or is your strength all centred in your gaze?"
"I am rowing as fast as I can, Miss Wilton, especially with this—"
"Oh, I forgot your wounded shoulder! Does it hurt? Does it pain you?
I am so sorry. Let me row."
"Thank you, no. I think I can manage it myself. The only pain I have is when you are unkind to me."
At that moment, to his great annoyance, his oar stuck fast in the oar-lock, and he straightway did that very unsailorly thing known as catching a crab.
Katharine Wilton laughed. There was music in her voice, but this time it did not awaken a responsive chord in the young man. Extricating his oar violently, he silently resumed his work.