Elsie’s bathing-dress was blue, trimmed with white braid, and she wore a rubber cap with a blue-and-red handkerchief knotted over it. Her bare legs and arms and neck had tanned very slightly; Geraldine’s showed scarlet patches of sunburn. As they joined Morrison in the water, both girls always screamed, clinging to one another’s hands. But once the water was high above their waists, Elsie, a naturally strong swimmer, struck out boldly, consciously enjoying the cold water and the exercise of her muscles. Geraldine, of poor physique and defective circulation, only bobbed up and down in the shallows, still uttering staccato shrieks. At first, Elsie and Morrison would keep near her, swimming short distances, and then returning, or splashing beside her in shallow water, but sooner or later they would both strike out, swimming side by side. They spoke very little. “I say, you swim simply splendidly, Mrs. Williams. Why, I’ve never seen a girl swim as well as you do.” “D’you think so? It’s nice, isn’t it?” “It’s ripping. I’ve never had a holiday like this one--I mean, one that I’ve enjoyed so much.” “Neither have I.” “I hadn’t looked forward to my holiday a bit this year. I never thought it would be anything like this. I didn’t know that anything in the world----” It was always Elsie who suggested that it was time to go back. “Geraldine’s gone out already. She turns a funny colour if she stays in too long.” Once, when they were rather further out than usual, Elsie said that she was getting tired. “Put your hand on my shoulder--I’ll help you. Yes, do.” “Oh no, I couldn’t.” “Yes, you must.” “Well, if you are sure you don’t mind....” “_Mind!_” His voice was very eloquent, and Elsie was abundantly satisfied. She laid her hand upon his shoulder, and kept it there after her feet touched the sandy bottom once more and they were almost out of the water. They raced to the bath-towel cloak that she had left under the wall, and as she put it round her Elsie said, without looking at him and in a peculiar tone: “Did you enjoy it?” “I loved it,” Morrison replied very low, and after a moment he added: “Better than any of our other bathes.” Elsie had never before conducted any one of her numerous love-affairs in a key so reticent, and the very novelty of the experience rendered it strange and precious. Subconsciously, they might both be waiting for the spoken word, but on the surface each was supremely contented in the present. The presence of Geraldine did not disturb Elsie in the least. Geraldine had been jealous of her intermittently ever since the days of their earliest childhood, and her manifestations of temper were always latent, rather than active. Elsie was used to them, and indifferent to them.