“Eighty-three?” said Jane, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “No. Only eighty-two,” said William Bates. “Where is it?” “There she drifts.” A dripping figure rose violently in the stern of the boat, spouting water like a public fountain. For what seemed to him like an eternity Rodney Spelvin had ducked and spluttered and writhed, and now it came to him abruptly that he was through. He bounded from his seat, and at the same time Jane swung with all the force of her supple body. There was a splash beside which all the other splashes had been as nothing. The boat overturned and went drifting away. Three bodies plunged into the stream. Three heads emerged from the water. The woman on the bank looked absently in their direction. Then she resumed her book. “It’s all right,” said William Bates, contentedly. “We’re in our depth.” “My bag!” cried Jane. “My bag of clubs!” “Must have sunk,” said William. “Rodney,” said Jane, “my bag of clubs is at the bottom somewhere. Dive under and swim about and try to find it.” “It’s bound to be around somewhere,” said William Bates encouragingly. Rodney Spelvin drew himself up to his full height. It was not an easy thing to do, for it was muddy where he stood, but he did it. “Damn your bag of clubs!” he bellowed, lost to all shame. “I’m going home!” With painful steps, tripping from time to time and vanishing beneath the surface, he sloshed to the shore. For a moment he paused on the bank, silhouetted against the summer sky, then he was gone. * * * * * Jane Packard and William Bates watched him go with amazed eyes. “I never would have dreamed,” said Jane, dazedly, “that he was that sort of man.” “A bad lot,” said William Bates. “The sort of man to be upset by the merest trifle!” “Must have a naturally bad disposition,” said William Bates. “Why, if a little thing like this could make him so rude and brutal and horrid, it wouldn’t be _safe_ to marry him!” “Taking a big chance,” agreed William Bates. “Sort of fellow who would water the cat’s milk and kick the baby in the face.” He took a deep breath and disappeared. “Here are your clubs, old girl,” he said, coming to the surface again. “Only wanted a bit of looking for.” “Oh, William,” said Jane, “you are the most wonderful man on earth!” “Would you go as far as that?” said William. “I was mad, mad, ever to get engaged to that brute!” “Now there,” said William Bates, removing an eel from his left breast-pocket, “I’m absolutely with you. Thought so all along, but didn’t like to say so. What I mean is, a girl like you--keen on golf and all that sort of thing--ought to marry a chap like me--keen on golf and everything of that description.” “William,” cried Jane, passionately, detaching a newt from her right ear, “I will!” “Silly nonsense, when you come right down to it, your marrying a fellow who doesn’t play golf. Nothing in it.” “I’ll break off the engagement the moment I get home.”