“‘Oakhurst!’ exclaimed he, with a most natural look of surprise. ‘You don’t mean Oakhurst? Why, there are no guests there! There is no one but Lucy—Miss Lucy!’
“‘That’s true,’ answered I, dryly. ‘No one but Lucy.’
“He leaned forward and scanned my features with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. ‘Surely you have not been alluding to her?’ I said nothing. ‘Seriously? Yes?’ And with a shout of merry laughter, he threw back his head with such vigor that his cigar flew out of his mouth and over his shoulder upon the sand; and then, without the least warning, his laughter ended in an abrupt ‘Oh!’
“He rose to his feet; not with a spring, but slowly, slowly, thoughtfully tugging at his moustache, and his eyes intently glaring into vacancy, as he rose and rose, till he seemed to my excited imagination to assume almost colossal proportions. Then he slowly subsided again into his seat, and sat there raking his beard with his long fingers. A chilly sensation crept over me. I tried to speak, but could think of no word wherewith to break the spell of silence. At last he turned his eyes upon mine.
“‘So it seems to you that I have been paying Lucy Poythress much attention?’
“‘Seems, Mr. Don? How can you use that word? It is a patent fact that must be as clear to your eyes as to mine.’
“‘Yes, but what kind of attention? She is musical—so am I. I have rowed across the River frequently, to play with her. Nay, my object has not been pleasure alone. I have been giving her what are called, in Paris, accompaniment-lessons. Does that amount to what is called attention, in a technical sense? And you acknowledge yourself that these visits never deceived you. You never thought that they were prompted by love.’
“‘No, they did not deceive me. What if they have deceived—’
“‘HER!’
“The word shot from his lips like a ball from a cannon. He sprang from the boat and began to stride to and fro in the sand, his nostrils dilated and his eyes fixed. (He used a dreadful expression, too, which was not at all patriotic, though it did end in —nation.) Presently he turned quickly towards me, and leaning forward, with his hands grasping the gunwale of the boat, eagerly asked, ‘But, Lucy, surely you do not think that—that she—is—what you call interested?’