THE COUNTRY. I85

or in her successful angling; for although she
draws in her line with a fish struggling and
flashing upon the hook, she never glances in
triumph or pleasure at her companion, as she
pulls it off slowly, drops it into the bottom of
the dugout, and baits again. Perhaps the man
does not see the creature flapping and gasping
at his feet, the light glittering upon scales as
wonderfully iridescent as bits of Roman glass;
at least, he never looks at it, or at her, or at
his interlocutor.
 "Do you catch many fish here? "
 "Some."
 "What are they?"
 "Sunfish."
 "It is very still here in the woods; does n't
it often seem lonely?"
 "Do' know." His voice is as vague and far
away as a voice heard in a dream.
 "But it is pleasant to be alone sometimes,
isn't it? -one likes to think."
 No reply. An impassive stare at the gunwale
of the canoe; one cannot imagine that the pale
eyes could be lifted higher.