`` Easily . I learned to row long ago -- for a pastime then . Since coming here I find it of great service to me . '' She stepped lightly into the tiny shallop and picked up an oar . The brilliant sunshine streamed about her , burnishing the rich tints of her hair into ruddy gold . She balanced herself to the swaying of the dory with the grace of a sea bird . The man looking at her felt his brain reel . `` Good-bye , Mr. Elliott . '' For answer he sprang into the dory and , snatching an oar , pushed against the old wreck with such energy that the dory shot out from the shore like a foam bell . His sudden spring had set it rocking violently . Magdalen almost lost her footing and caught blindly at his arm . As her fingers closed on his wrist a thrill as of fire shot through his every vein . `` Why have you done this , Mr. Elliott ? You must go back . '' `` But I will not , '' he said masterfully , looking straight into her eyes with an imperiousness that sat well upon him . `` I am going to row you over to Chapel Point . I have the oars -- I will be master this once , at least . '' For an instant her eyes flashed defiant protest , then drooped before his . A sudden , hot blush crimsoned her pale face . His will had mastered hers ; the girl trembled from head to foot , and the proud , sensitive , mouth quivered .
Into the XXXXX of the man watching her breathlessly flashed a triumphant , passionate joy .
Mr. answer arm face fingers grace master protest tints wreck