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Sophy took off her hat and turned her face gratefully to the cool breeze as they swung out into the river. The Paris of the rumbling, roaring auto buses, and the honking horns, and the shrill cries, and the mad confusion faded away. There was the palely glowing sky ahead, and on each side the black reflection of the tree-laden banks, mistily mysterious now and very lovely.
The boat was big, clumsy and leaky, but the girl was eloquent and eager to persuade me it was a fast and comfortable boat. She produced an ancient cushion from somewhere; there was a clumsy getting on board, and she pushed off. We went sailing down among the swans, the coots and the rushes, and passed little tree-laden islands, hooped with stone wall for fear they might be washed away.
There they had a good view up and down the bluff-jagged, hilly and tree-laden coast. "It's 11 o'clock now," said Hazel, looking at her wrist-watch. "The motorboat will be here at about 1 o'clock, and we have two hours in which to get the information we are after unless we want to share honors for success with the other girls when they arrive."
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