And Maude, though she appeared half asleep, like a beautiful wild
animal basking in the warmth of the sun, glanced at him now and again
and noted the strength and grace of his figure, the almost Grecian
contour of the handsome face. She had made her wager with Howard on the
spur of the moment, prompted by the vanity of a woman piqued by the
story of Stafford's indifference to her sex; but as she looked at him
she wondered how a woman would feel if she fell in love with him. But
she had no fears for herself; there was a coldness in her nature which
had hitherto guarded her from the fever which men call love, and she
thought herself quite secure. There would be amusement, triumph, in
making him love her, in winning her wager with that cynical Mr. Howard,
who boasted of his friend's invulnerability; and when she had
conquered, and gratified her vanity--Ah, well, it would be easy to step
aside and bring the curtain down upon her triumph and Stafford's
discomfiture. She would wear that Mr. Howard's ring, and every time she
looked at it, it should remind her of her conquest.

Stafford rowed on in silence for some minutes. His beautiful companion
did not seem to want him to talk and certainly showed no desire to talk
herself; so he gave himself up to thinking of Ida--and wishing that it
was she who was sitting opposite him there, instead of this girl with
the face of a Grecian goddess, with the lustrous hair of an houri. At
last, feeling that he ought to say something, he remarked, as he gazed
at the marvellous view: "Very beautiful, isn't it?"