"Scarcely. I am afraid you are more like an effect."
"An effect!"
"You are a fearful example of what I don't want to be and what I am bound to be if I don't watch out."
"What?"
Sylvia paused for a word, then, "A derelict," she pronounced.
Jack's head went up quickly, his self-complacency shattered for the moment. Sylvia's word had stung.
"Do I honestly remind you of anything so--dilapidated, not to say rotten?" he asked.
Sylvia caught the hurt sound in his voice and looked up, taking in at a glance his wholesome, young vigor, his essential cleanness and fineness. Excellent things these in themselves as the girl knew, though she asked for more.
"No," she admitted. "It wasn't a good figure after all. You are more like a freshly rigged, beautifully appointed yacht, without a rudder or a pilot, going nowhere--anywhere."
Jack settled back on the railing with a shrug.