They were off for a week in the month of August in the Adirondacks. All the morning they had tramped over the hills until they came to a lake, solitary, shut in by forests, a mountain overtowering the side opposite them—reflected green and blue in the waters that met their eyes as they approached a beach of fine white sand. Sitting awhile they rejoiced in having found so fine a place to eat their lunch. They were miles from any human habitation. A heron floated majestically through the air. A kingfisher hurried noisily athwart their view. A fish jumped out of the water a dozen rods away and made a circle of waves which slowly enlarged until it became lost to sight. Instinctively they both threw off their clothes and stepped down to the water’s edge hand in hand. “I’ll beat you in!” “Let’s swim to that little island.” In they splashed and swam the first few yards under water, he leading the way, she following, but his eyes closely watching for any indication on her part of fatigue. “Stay near me, Matey, there’s nothing but water where I am.” “All right, Naiade, put your hand on my shoulder and rest awhile. We’re almost there!” He felt her warm hand on his shoulder and her thumb on the back of his neck, and the warmth of the sun on his rapidly drying hair—there in the pure water almost arrived at the wooded islet. He felt the impact of the water on his flank stirred by the leisurely motions of her other hand and arm as she made as if to help him tow her to shore. They climbed up and sat on a mossy bank out of sight of every living thing, looking from a shady spot at the lake shimmering in the sunlight. “Our lunch is over there. We should have brought it with us. Nevertheless I’ll feed upon thy lips, Corinna. “What an experience this is! I never had a swim like this before. A perfect day and a perfect place. Isolation complete. Thou beside me singing in the wilderness, but this is a very Eden and we are undisputed owners of it for this hour. I’m rich in time. I’d just as soon stay here till sunset. An absolutely perfect place to rest and play. I feel as if I could do anything—omnipotent as the gods of old, dependent on nothing. It thrills me to think of myself—just me—and you—just you—the only humans in all the world we see. If I were a magician I’d turn this moss into a magic carpet and we’d fly through space.” “Oh, Matey dear, I feel as if I _were_ flying! Tell me more like that. Continue the story. Tell it softly close in my ear.”