She had always loved the lake, and Jerry's society was generally congenial.

He had, moreover, been taking special pains to please her, and she was quite willing to be pleased.
She consented, therefore, and Jerry punted her across to her favourite nook for supper.

She thoroughly enjoyed the repast, Jerry's ideas of what a picnic-basket should contain being of a decidedly lavish order.
The meal over, he took up his banjo and waxed sentimental.

Nan lay among her cushions and listened in sympathetic silence.

Undeniably Jerry knew how to make music, and he also knew when to stop--a priceless gift in Nan's estimation.
When the moon rose at last out of the summer haze, he had laid his instrument aside and was lying with his head on his arms and his face to the rising glory.