He was what she had expected in breeding and physique--the type usually to be met with where the world can afford to take its leisure.
As he was not looking at her she ventured to continue her inspection, leaning back, and dropping her bare arm alongside, to trail her fingers through the sunlit water.
"Have we not rowed far enough ?" she asked presently.

"This fog is apparently going to last forever." "Like your silence," he said gaily.
Raising her eyes in displeasure she met his own frankly amused.
"Shall I tell you," he asked, "exactly why I insisted on rowing you in?
I'm afraid"-- he glanced at her with the quick smile breaking again on his lips--"I'm afraid you don't care whether I tell you or not.

Do you ?" "If you ask me--I really don't," she said.

"And, by the way, do you know that if you turned around properly and faced the stern you could make better progress with your oars ?" "By 'better' do you mean _quicker_ progress ?" he asked, so naively that she concluded he was a trifle stupid.

The best-looking ones were usually stupid.
"Yes, of course," she said, impatient.