"Could I be of any use?" she asked, looking up at Smith very guilelessly.
"Why, if I had something—a key-ring or anything that I could hang over the taut line—something that would slide down and jog him gently——"
"A hairpin?" she asked.
"I'm afraid it's too light."
She reflected a moment; her bent forefinger brushed her velvet lips. Then she began to unfasten a long gold pin at her throat.
"Oh, not that!" exclaimed Smith, anxiously. "It might slip off."
"It can't; there's a safety clasp. Anyway, we must have that trout!"
"But I could not permit——"
"It is I who permit myself, monsieur."
"No, no, it is too generous of you——"