"Kestern's a poet," remarked Manning gravely.
The girl nodded. "'Leaves in Autumn,'" she said.
Paul flushed. "You've read it?" he cried excitedly.
She smiled slowly. "I've even painted it," she said.
"What?"
"Painted it. That is, there was one poem especially I couldn't forget. I saw it rather vividly."
"Oh," said Paul, with a deep breath. Somehow the fact that she knew of his work and had appreciated it to that extent, seemed to him the biggest praise that he had had yet. He could not take his eyes off her. "Which one?" he asked at last.
She considered him a moment Then: "I'll show you the sketch," she said, "and you shall guess which it is meant to illustrate." She got up as she spoke and turned round for a case that lay behind her in the punt.
"Oh, do," cried Paul, starting forward.
Manning laughed. "She's not got it there," he said.