Kenny had the supreme gift of living intensely and joyously in the present and the present for him shone in the soft brown eyes of the ferryman in the stern.

Past and future he shrugged to the winds.

For he was sailing across to romance, he hoped, and surely to mystery.

Yes, surely to mystery! Mystery enough for any Celt in the battered horn, the ferry and the ferryman yonder in the old-time gown.
[Illustration: He was sailing across to romance, he hoped, and surely to mystery.] "It was down there," said Joan, nodding, "where the river bends, that Brian had his camp." Brian's name was a shock.

Kenny came to earth for an instant.