all her life,
can testify to this, and as she stood there that day, young, happy, and
beautiful, it was no wonder that his heart burned with a great love.

"You'll almost have time for a run to Land's End," said the Admiral,
looking at his watch, "and it's a glorious afternoon."

"No, we are going to picnic in the good old-fashioned way," said Nancy.
"We are going to have tea on the headland, after which we are going to
quarrel about things generally. We always do."

The Admiral laughed. He had not the slightest hesitation about
allowing Bob and Nancy to go to Gurnard's Head together. They had been
playfellows and friends all their lives, as for their being anything
else, the thought never occurred to him.

"Off you go," he said, "and mind you take great care of her, Bob."

Admiral Tresize liked Bob very much, and always welcomed him to
Penwennack. He remembered that he had Trelawney blood in his veins,
and, although his father had been a Quaker doctor, he made no secret of
the fact that he liked the boy, and he often spoke of him as a nice,
quiet, clever lad.

"Fine-looking chap too," he would add; "just the build for a soldier.
Six feet in his stockings, and forty inches around the chest. But
there, although he has the looks of a Trelawney, he has the views of
his Quaker father, and it's no use talking about it. But it's a pity
all the same, a great pity."

"Well, Bob, I hear you have done great things at Oxford. Astonished
the professors, swept everything before you, and all that sort of
thing," said Nancy, as presently they stood on the headland.

Bob laughed, and looked rather shamefaced. He was very sensitive about
his scholastic achievements, besides which he knew that Nancy thought
far more of a "blue" than of a classical scholar.

"You are fairly clever, you know, Bob," and the girl laughed as she
spoke.

"That does not count much with you, Nancy."

"How do you know? It doesn't follow that because I don't like dressing
like a frump, and because I love hunting and dancing, that I don't
admire cleverness."

"It's not that at all, Nancy. I know you admire clever people. What I
meant was," and he stammered painfully, "that--that it's--a matter of
indifference to you whether I, personally, am dull or clever."

"What reason have you for saying that?"

"Hundreds," replied Bob. "That is--you see, you are always laughing at
my desire to be 'a fusty bookworm,' as you call it, and--and, well,