There would be amusement, triumph, in making him love her, in winning her wager with that cynical Mr.Howard, who boasted of his friend's invulnerability; and when she had conquered, and gratified her vanity--Ah, well, it would be easy to step aside and bring the curtain down upon her triumph and Stafford's discomfiture.

She would wear that Mr.Howard's ring, and every time she looked at it, it should remind her of her conquest.
Stafford rowed on in silence for some minutes.

His beautiful companion did not seem to want him to talk and certainly showed no desire to talk herself; so he gave himself up to thinking of Ida--and wishing that it was she who was sitting opposite him there, instead of this girl with the face of a Grecian goddess, with the lustrous hair of an houri.

At last, feeling that he ought to say something, he remarked, as he gazed at the marvellous view: "Very beautiful, isn't it ?" She raised her eyes and let them wander from the glittering water to the glorious hills.
"Yes, I suppose it is.

I'm afraid I don't appreciate scenery as much as other people do.