He smiled almost apologetically, patted Nanette on the head, and, _Times_ in hand, returned to his shady lair in the smoke-room. Nanette stared reproachfully at her mother. “Don’t be huffy about it, darling,” said the latter. “Really, you will only have time for a swim and a sun bath, if you are to make yourself presentable by one o’clock.” Nanette looked swiftly from face to face. A number of people had now begun to come out from late breakfast. She checked speech, withered poor Jack with a final, comprehensive look of scorn, and walked quickly into the hotel. The last few steps that were visible, as she crossed the threshold, almost consisted of stamping her little feet. Following a moment of silence: “Look here, you chaps,” said Jack, “it looks rather mean for us all to desert Nanette. I know we’ve engaged the launch and all that, but it’s beastly tame swimming alone----” “Don’t worry, Mr. Kelton,” Nanette’s mother broke in. She was smiling. “Nanette will not be swimming alone!” Poor Jack smiled in return, flushed, and then frowned darkly. His glance constantly sought the entrance to the hotel. But Ensleigh tactfully made the conversation general, and we were discussing the feminine modes of Paris as opposed to those of Buenos Aires when a slight figure arrayed in a pink bathrobe and shaded by a Japanese parasol passed slowly down the path below the terrace; whereupon: “There goes Nanette!” said Jack, jumping up. “Excuse me. I’ll just run and ask her if she would rather I stayed.” He hurled himself in the direction of the steps and disappeared. A moment later he reappeared, running after the girl. We watched. “Nanette!” he called. Nanette paused, turned, waved her hand, and went on. She walked under a veritable awning of hibiscus, sweeping some of the blossoms off with her parasol. Rounding the corner, she came into view again on a lower path. Her mother leaned over the balcony rail. “Go after her, Jack!” she called. “Don’t be afraid of her!” The words reached Nanette. She looked up through flower-laden branches. Her voice came faintly. “I don’t want him to come after me. I want to be alone.” Jack Kelton turned and began to walk back up the sloping path. He kept his curly head lowered, taking out a briar from his pocket and fumbling for his pouch. Nanette’s mother glanced at Ensleigh. “Poor Jack,” she said. “He is very young!” CHAPTER II. RESCUE We did not take the lift down to the landing-stage. It was busy with bathers; therefore we descended by the rambling stairway cut out of the rock. At the bend, I paused. Half across the bay, far beyond the waddling group who hugged the bathing pool, where the transparent water showed turquoise blue, I saw a flashing of white limbs and glimpsed a pink-covered head lowered to the swell. Came a rapturous murmur behind me. “Nanette! Gad! That girl swims like a fish!”