And she smiled to herself when she made this observation, up to her neck in the surf; and Eileen, hearing the remark, smiled to herself, too.

But she felt the slightest bit uncomfortable when that animated brunette Gladys Orchil, climbing up dripping on to the anchored float beyond the breakers, frankly confessed that the tinge of mystery enveloping Selwyn's career made him not only adorable, but agreeably "unfathomable"; and that she meant to experiment with him at every opportunity.
Sheila Minster, seated on the raft's edge, swinging her stockinged legs in the green swells that swept steadily shoreward, modestly admitted that Selwyn was "sweet," particularly in a canoe on a moonlight night--in spite of her weighty mother heavily afloat in the vicinity.
"He's nice every minute," she said--"every fibre of him is nice in the nicest sense.

He never talks 'down' at you--like an insufferable undergraduate; and he is so much of a man--such a real man!--that I like him," she added naively; "and I'm quite sure he likes me, because he said so." "I like him," said Gladys Orchil, "because he has a sense of humour and stands straight.

I like a sense of humour and--good shoulders.

He's an enigma; and I like that, too.