How low they fly; so low that their feet splash in the water, that makes a bright spray-hue in the sun! "Algy is going away to-morrow!" say I, presently.
"So he told me." "This is his last evening here!" (in a rather dolorous tone).
"So I should gather," laughing a little at the obviousness of my last piece of information.
"And yet," say I, looking down through the clear water at a dead tree-bough lying at the bottom, and sighing, "he is going to dine out to-night--to dine with Mrs.Huntley." "With Mrs.Huntley! when ?" with a long-drawn whistle of intelligence.
"Tell me," cry I, impulsively, raising myself from my reclining pose, and sitting upright, "you will understand better than I do--perhaps it is my mistake--but, if you had seen a person only _once_ for five or ten minutes, would you sign yourself 'Yours very sincerely' to them ?" He laughs dryly.
"Not unless I was writing _after dinner_--why ?" "Nothing--no reason!" Again he laughs.
"I think I can guess." "Her name is Zephine," say I again, leaning over the boat-side and pulling my forefinger slowly to and fro through the warm brown water.
"I am well aware of that fact" (smiling).
How near the swans are drawing toward us! One, with his neck well thrown back, and his wings raised and ruffled, sailing along like a lovely snow-white ship; another, with less grace and more homeliness, standing on his head, with black webs paddling out behind.
"You were quite wrong on Sunday--_quite_," say I, speaking with sudden abruptness, and reddening.
"On Sunday!" (throwing his luminous dark eyes upward to the light clouds and faint blue of the August sky above us, as if to aid his recollection), "nothing more likely--but what about ?" "About--Roger," I answer, speaking with some difficulty ("and Mrs.
Huntley," I was going to add, but some superstition hinders me from coupling their names even in a sentence).
"I dare say"-- carelessly--"but what new light have you had thrown upon the matter ?" "I asked her," I say, looking him full in the face, with simple directness.
"_Asked her!_" repeats he, with an accent of profound astonishment.
"Asked the woman whether she had been engaged to him, and jilted him?
Impossible!" "No! no!" cry I, with tremulous impatience, "of course not; but I asked her whether she used not to know him in India, and she said, 'Yes, we met several times,' just like _that_--she no more blushed and looked confused than _I_ should if any one asked me whether I knew you!" He is still leaning over the punt, and has begun to dabble as I did.
"You certainly have a way of putting things very strongly," he says in a rather low voice, "_convincingly_ so!" "She did not even know what part of the world he was in!" I cry, triumphantly.
"Did she say so ?" (lifting up his face, and speaking quickly).
"Well, no--o--" I answer, reluctantly; "but I said, 'He is in the West Indies,' and she answered 'Yes,' or 'Indeed,' or 'Is he ?' I forget which, but at any rate it implied that it was news to her." A pike leaps not far from us, and splashes back again.

I watch to see whether the widening faint circles will have strength to reach us, or whether the water's smile will be smoothed and straightened before it gets to us.
"Did Mrs.Huntley happen to say" (leaning lazily back, and speaking carelessly), "how she liked her house ?" "No; why ?" "She has only just got into it," he answers, slightly; "only about a fortnight, that is." "I wonder," say I, ruminatingly, "what brought her to this part of the world, for she does not seem to know anybody." He does not answer.
"We _ought_ to be friends, ought not we ?" say I, beginning to laugh nervously, and looking appealingly toward him, "both of us coming to sojourn in a strange land! It is a curious coincidence our both settling here in such similar circumstances, at almost the same time, is not it ?" Still he is silent.
"_Is not it ?_" cry I, irritably, raising my voice.
Again he has thrown his head back, and is perusing the sky, his hands clasped round one lifted knee.
"What _is_ a coincidence ?" he says, languidly.

"I do not think I quite know--I am never good at long words--two things that happen accidentally at the same time, is not it ?" He lays the faintest possible stress on the word accidentally.
"And you mean to say that this in not accidental ?" I cry, quickly.
"I mean nothing; I only ask for information." How still the world is to-day! The feathery water-weeds sway, indeed, to and fro, with the motion of the water, but the tall cats'-tails, and all the flags, stand absolutely motionless.

I feel vaguely ruffled, and take up my forgotten book.

Holding it so as to hide my companion's face from me, I begin to read ostentatiously.