Marjorie stood up.

“No,” Marjorie said.

He looked at Marjorie.

“Oh, shut up,” Marjorie said.

Marjorie did not say anything.

“They’re feeding,” Marjorie said.

He was afraid to look at Marjorie.

“I know it,” Marjorie said happily.

“Isn’t love any fun?” Marjorie said.

Marjorie unpacked the basket of supper.

“What’s the matter, Nick?” Marjorie asked.

He could hear Marjorie rowing on the water.

“There’s our old ruin, Nick,” Marjorie said.

“It seems more like a castle,” Marjorie said.

Marjorie went to the boat and brought a blanket.

“I’m going to take the boat,” Marjorie called to him.

“Can you remember when it was a mill?” Marjorie asked.

Marjorie did not reel in until the boat touched the shore.

Marjorie sat on the blanket with her back to the fire and waited for Nick.

“You don’t have to talk silly,” Marjorie said; “what’s really the matter?”

“Should I let it drop?” Marjorie called back, holding the line in her hand.

Marjorie rowed up the point a little way so she would not disturb the line.

Marjorie stepped out of the boat and Nick pulled the boat high up the beach.

Marjorie dropped the line overboard and watched the baits go down through the water.

The evening breeze blew the smoke toward the point, so Marjorie spread the blanket out between the fire and the lake.

Ten years later there was nothing of the mill left except the broken white limestone of its foundations showing through the swampy second growth as Nick and Marjorie rowed along the shore.

Nick caught three of them with his hands and cut their heads off and skinned them while Marjorie chased with her hands in the bucket, finally caught a perch, cut its head off and skinned it.

Then Marjorie rowed the boat out over the channel-bank, holding the line in her teeth, and looking toward Nick, who stood on the shore holding the rod and letting the line run out from the reel.