"I have borrowed your skiff very unceremoniously, Miss Vere; but since I have been detected in the theft, may I not persuade you to leave your lonely eyrie there, and accompany me in my little pleasure-trip this evening?"
[CHAPTER II.]
Bonnibel Vere closed her book and sprang up with a blush and smile of pleasure.
"Of course you know that I cannot refuse the invitation," said she, brightly. "I am just dying to talk to some one."
"Woman-like!" answered Leslie Dane, laughing, as he assisted her to a seat.
"I suppose you never find your high majesty in a like predicament," said she, rather pettishly, as the skiff swept out into the blue, encircling waves.
He smiled at the childish air of offended dignity she assumed.
"Au contraire," he answered, gaily, "it was only this evening that I was experiencing a like feeling. For instance, when I captured your skiff and set forth alone I was just dying to have you along with me to talk to. And now I have my wish and you have yours. We are very fortunate!"
"Do you think so?" she inquired, carelessly. "If gratified wishes make one fortunate, then I have been fortunate all my life. Uncle Francis has never refused to indulge me in anything I ever set my heart upon."