u. If you kick me, I shall only rock the harder,"
she answered composedly--and did so.

Shipping the oars carefully I arose, advanced upon Margarita and boxed
her ears with determination. I should have done it in mid-ocean. I
doubt if sharks in sight would have deterred me. As I was boxing her
ears--beautiful, strong ones, they were, not tiny, selfish, high-set
bits of porcelain: W--r M--l (who would have been _Sir_ W--r M--l in
England to-day) said of Margarita's ears that they were set
convincingly low and that he looked to her to demonstrate one of his
favourite tests of longevity--in the very act of this boxing. I
repeat, I was cruelly bitten in the wrists, and, snorting with rage,
pure, primitive, unchivalrous rage, I fell upon that shameless little
Pagan and shook her violently, till the teeth rattled in her head.
Over we went, the pair of us, struggling like demons, into the chilly,
rational water, and as Margarita, like so many people who live by the
sea, was utterly ignorant of the art of swimming and like so many
people of her temperament, violently averse to the sudden shock of
cold water, it was a subdued and dripping young woman that I dragged
to the overturned boat and ultimately towed to shore. I worked hard to
get her there and had no time for remorse, but as I hurried her up the
beach it flooded over me.

"What must you think of me?" I asked her through chattering teeth.
"You will not care to meet any more of Roger's friends, I fear."

"Oh, yes," she returned sweetly, looking incomprehensibly lovely--ah,
me, that long, smooth line of her hip, that round, sleek head, shining
like bronze in the sun! I can see it now--"Oh, yes, I hope he has many
more like you, Jerry, but not so strong--you hurt my arm!"

It is useless to ask me why that should have endeared her a hundred
times over to me, who would have given a year of my life to kiss her
but might not. It did thus endear her, however, and so I know what
hot, foolish hope flooded Roger off his footholds of conventions and
convictions and floated him away in a warm, alluring sea, where the
tropic palm-isles of Fata Morgana were the only shores. I, too, caught
a glimpse of those shores; the warmth of that sea was only the blood
pounding through my veins, and I knew it, but I shut my eyes and let
the waves lap at me a moment. Roger, lucky dog, did not know and did
not need to know what was happening to him, and it was not for a
moment, but forever, as fa