Knight was very kind to her, but he was never extravagant in his praise.  He was quite unlike any other man of her acquaintance.  His touch was always so sure.  He never sought her out, though he was invariably quite pleased to see her.  The dainty barrier of pride that fenced her round did not exist for him.  She did not need to keep him at a distance.  He could be intimate without being familiar.

And intimate he had become.  There was no disputing it.  From the first, with his easy savoir-faire, he had waived ceremony, till at length there was no ceremony left between them.  He treated her like a lady.  What more could the most exacting demand?

And yet Adam continued to call him “the curly-topped chap,” and turned him over to his son Rufus when he requested permission to go out in his boat.

And Rufus—­Rufus turned with a gesture of disgust after the utterance of his half-veiled threat, and spat with savage emphasis upon the sand.

Adam uttered a chuckle that was not wholly unsympathetic, and began deftly to coil the now disentangled rope.

“Do you know what I’d do—­if I was in your place?” he said.

Rufus made a sound that was strictly noncommittal.

Adam’s quick eyes flung him a birdlike glance.  “Why don’t you come along to The Ship and smoke a pipe with your old father of an evening?” he said.  “Once a week’s not enough, not, that is, if you—­” He broke off suddenly, caught by a whistle that could not be resisted.

Rufus was regarding the horizon with those brooding eyes of vivid blue.

Abruptly Adam ceased to whistle.  “When I was a young chap,” he said, “I didn’t keep my courting for Sundays only.  I didn’t dress up, mind you.  That weren’t my way.  But I’d go along in my jersey and invite her out for a bit of a cruise in the old boat.  They likes a cruise, Rufus.  You try it, my boy!  You try it!”

The rope lay in an orderly coil at his feet, and he straightened himself, rubbing his hands on his trousers.  His son remained quite motionless, his eyes still fixed as though he heard not.

Adam stood up beside him, shrewdly alert.  He had never before ventured to utter words of counsel on this delicate subject.  But having started, he was minded to make a neat job of it.  Adam had never been the man to leave a thing half done.

“Go to it, Rufus!” he said, dropping his voice confidentially.  “Don’t be afraid to show your mettle!  Don’t be crowded out by that curly-topped chap!  You’re worth a dozen of him.  Just you let her know it, that’s all!”

He dug his hands into his trousers pockets with the words, and turned to go.

Rufus moved then, moved abruptly as one coming out of a dream.  His eyes swooped down upon the lithe, active figure at his side.  They held a smile—­a fiery smile that gleamed meteor-like and passed.

“All right, Adam,” he said in his deep-chested voice.