Gerald was not in a mood for talking, and he felt little inclined to disturb her.

It was companionship enough merely to glance at her ever and anon as she sat silently in the stern, the red ropes of the tiller drawn loosely around her slender waist like a silken girdle.

He wondered idly what she was thinking of.

Her broad hat threw too deep a shadow for him to see her face save when they neared one of the beacon rafts; then it was suddenly in brilliant illumination, and it was impossible not to watch for these moments of revelation, which lit her up to such rare beauty.

He fancied he could almost see her thoughts as there flashed across her face some new, swift expression more speaking than words,--now a noble thought, he was sure; now an odd fancy, now a serious meditative mood, that held her every sense and faculty in thrall at once.
Through all her revery she never forgot her duty with the rudder, though she quite forgot her oarsman.