His informing and well-feathered tail signalled to Miss Lansdale that she seemed to have forgotten herself.
At that moment, I think, the woman abandoned all her preposterous hopes; then, too, I think, she learned the last and bitterest lesson which great fighters must learn, to embellish defeat with an air of urbane acceptance.

Miss Lansdale relaxed--she melted before my eyes to an aspect that no victor who knew his business could afford to despise.
I clambered in.

Jim followed, remarking amiably to the woman as he passed her on his way to the bow of the boat, "I _thought_ you couldn't have meant _that_!" And Defeat rowed Jim and me; rowed us past the feathered marge of green islands quite as if nothing had happened.

But I knew it _had_ happened, for Miss Lansdale was so nearly human that I presently found myself thinking "Miss Kate" of her.

She not only answered questions, but, what amazed me far more, she condescended to ask them now and then.