ognise me." The oars had dropped unheeded from her hands, and she
leaned forward, looking at Vane with mocking eyes. "I just loved it."

"I'll bet you did," laughed Vane. "What made you give it up?"

"A difference of opinion between myself and some of the male diners,
which threatened to become chronic," she returned dreamily. "That's a
thing, my seeker after information, which the war hasn't changed, anyway."

For a while he made no answer, but lay back against the cushions, puffing
at his pipe. Occasionally she pulled two or three gentle strokes with
the oars, but for the most part she sat motionless with her eyes brooding
dreamily over the lazy beauty of the water.

"You're a funny mixture, Joan," he said at length. "Devilish
funny. . . ." And as he spoke a fat old carp rose almost under the boat
and took an unwary fly. "The sort of mixture, you know, that drives a
man insane. . . ."

She was looking at the widening ripples caused by the fish and she smiled
slightly. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "I am what I am. . . . And
just as with that fly, fate comes along suddenly, doesn't it, and
pouf . . . it's all over! All its little worries settled for ever in a
carp's tummy. If only one's own troubles could be settled quite as
expeditiously. . . ."

He looked at her curiously. "It helps sometimes, Joan, to shoot your
mouth, as our friends across the water say. I'm here to listen, if it's
any comfort. . . ."

She turned and faced him thoughtfully. "There's something about you,
Derek, that I rather like." It was the first time that she had called
him by his Christian name, and Vane felt a little pleasurable thrill run
through him. But outwardly he gave no sign.

"That is not a bad beginning, then," he said quietly. "If you're
energetic enough let's get the boat under that weeping willow. I'm
thinking we might tie her up, and there's room for an army corps in the
stern here. . . ."

The boat brushed through the drooping branches, and Vane stepped into the
bow to make fast. Then he turned round, and stood for a while watching
the girl as she made herself comfortable amongst the cushions. . . .
"There was once upon a time," he prompted, "a man. . . ."

"Possessed," said Joan, "of great wealth. Gold and silver and precious
stones were his for the asking. . . ."

"It's to be assumed that the fortunate maiden who was destined to become
his wife would join in the chorus with average success,"