As they turned into their own stream, the light was strong enough for him to see her face.

She lay there like a ghost, her eyes half closed, the only touch of colour in the shining strands of her beautiful hair.

She roused herself a little as they swung around.

He paused, leaning upon the pole.
"You are not angry ?" he asked.
"No, I am not angry," she answered.

"Why should I be?
But I cannot talk to you about it tonight." They glided to the edge of the landing-stage.