air circling in a dark cloud about her head. The
expression on her face gave him instant cause for alarm.

Since that first day when she had spoken to him, he had studiously
avoided meeting her eye, and had even come to congratulate himself on
having removed from her mind the suspicion of a former encounter. But
there was that in the glance that now met and held his that dispelled
any such hope. It indicated all too clearly that she had not been
deceived, and that she was treating the matter with unbecoming levity.

Percival returned haughtily to his steamer-chair, but not to count
raindrops. He had food for new and most irritating reflections. The
girl's refusal to take his cue and ignore the very mild flirtation that
had occurred on the car-platform placed him in a situation at once
awkward and embarrassing. He rather prided himself on never taking
advantage of any tribute of admiration that might be tendered him by the
less experienced of her sex. On more than one occasion in the past he
had heroically extinguished the tender flames that his own charms had
kindled in susceptible bosoms. He had come to share the belief of his
mother that he possessed a rare degree of chivalry in protecting women
against himself.

But this impossible child of Nature either did not know the rules of
the game, or chose to ignore them. He would be forced to continue this
distasteful partnership memory, or else dissolve it with a casual
reference to the episode, which would dispose of it for good and all.
He had about decided upon the latter course when Fate forestalled him.

On his way down to luncheon he encountered Miss Boynton coming up the
companionway. Her hair, still damp, was hanging about her shoulders, and
she carried a bundle of bath-towels under her arm. Both stood politely
aside, then both started forward, meeting midway.

[Illustration: Her hair, still damp, was hanging about her shoulders,
and she carried a bundle of bath-towels under her arm.]

"I--I--beg your pardon," said Percival.

"What for?" she asked.

"For--for not recognizing you the other day." It was not in the least
what he had meant to say, but it was said, and he must go on as best he
could. "Not expecting to see you, you know, and all that."

She stood shaking her hair in the breeze and smiling. While she
evidently bore no resentment, she was not helping him out in his
apology.

"One sees so many faces in traveling," he went on lamely, "and all so