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After a while Errington said almost vexedly--
"Are you struck dumb, George? Haven't you a word to say to a fellow?"
"Just what I was about to ask _you_," replied Lorimer carelessly; "and I
was also going to remark that we hadn't seen your mad friend up at the
Gueldmar residence."
"No. Yet I can't help thinking he has something to do with them, all the
same," returned Errington meditatively. "I tell you, he swore at me by
some old Norwegian infernal place or other. I dare say he's an Odin
worshipper, too. But never mind him. What do you think of _her_?"
Lorimer turned lazily round in the boat, so that he faced his companion.
"Well, old fellow, if you ask me frankly, I think she is the most
beautiful woman I ever saw, or, for that matter, ever heard of. And I am
an impartial critic--perfectly impartial."
And, resting on his oar, he dipped the blade musingly in and out of the
water, watching the bright drops fall with an oil-like smoothness as
they trickled from the polished wood and glittered in the late sunshine
like vari-colored jewels.


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