She held them lightly in place on her shoulder.
“Allow me,” he said, placing his hand upon the oars.
A spirit of contradiction took possession of her.
“Indeed, no,” she answered; “why should I? They are not at all heavy.”
He gently lifted her resisting fingers one by one and raised the broad bone of contention to his shoulder. Then without a look he turned and offered his arm to Mrs. Levice.
The crickets chirped in the hedges; now and then a firefly flashed before them; the trees seemed wrapped in silent awe at the majesty of the bewildering heavens. As they approached the river, the faint susurra came to them, mingled with the sound of a guitar and some one singing in the distance.
“Others are enjoying themselves also,” he remarked as their feet touched the pebbly beach. A faint crescent moon shone over the water. Ruth went straight to the little boat aground on the shore.
“It looks like a cockle-shell,” he said, as he put one foot in after shoving it off. “Will you sit in the stern or the bow, Mrs. Levice?”
“In the bow; I dislike to see dangers before we come to them.”
He helped her carefully to her place; she thanked him laughingly for his exceptionally strong arm, and he turned to Ruth.