Leisurely, and with my presentiment strong upon me, I descended the steep cliffside to the cave on the left of the bay, where, guarded by the faithful Ponto, I was accustomed to disrobe; and soon afterwards I came out, my dark hair over my shoulders and blue twill over a portion of the rest of me, to climb out to the point of the projecting rocks, so that I might dive gracefully and safely into the still blue water. I was a good swimmer. I reached the ridge on the opposite side of the bay without fatigue, not changing from a powerful breast-stroke. I then sat for a while at the water’s edge to rest and to drink in the thrilling glory of what my heart persisted in telling me was the morning of my life. And then I saw Him. Not distinctly, for he was rowing a dinghy in my direction, and consequently had his back to me. In the stress of my emotions and an aggravation of modesty, I dived again. With an intensity like that of a captured conger I yearned to be hidden by the water. I could watch him as I swam, for, strictly speaking, he was in my way, though a little farther out to sea than I intended to go. As I drew near, I noticed that he wore an odd garment like a dressing-gown. He had stopped rowing. I turned upon my back for a moment’s rest, and, as I did so, heard a cry. I resumed my former attitude, and brushed the salt water from my eyes. The dinghy was wobbling unsteadily. The dressing-gown was in the bows; and he, my sea-god, was in the water. Only for a second I saw him. Then he sank. How I blessed the muscular development of my arms. I reached him as he came to the surface. “That’s twice,” he remarked contemplatively, as I seized him by the shoulders. “Be brave,” I said excitedly; “I can save you.” “I should be most awfully obliged,” he said. “Do exactly as I tell you.” “I say,” he remonstrated, “you’re not going to drag me along by the roots of my hair, are you?” The natural timidity of man is, I find, attractive. I helped him to the boat, and he climbed in. I trod water, clinging with one hand to the stern. “Allow me,” he said, bending down. “No, thank you,” I replied. “Not, really?” “Thank you very much, but I think I will stay where I am.” “But you may get cramp. By the way—I’m really frightfully obliged to you for saving my life—I mean, a perfect stranger—I’m afraid it’s quite spoiled your dip.” “Not at all,” I said politely. “Did you get cramp?” “A twinge. It was awfully kind of you.” “Not at all.” Then there was a rather awkward silence. “Is this your first visit to Guernsey?” I asked. “Yes; I arrived yesterday. It’s a delightful place. Do you live here?” “Yes; that white cottage you can just see through the trees.” “I suppose I couldn’t give you a tow anywhere?” “No; thank you very much. I will swim back.” Another constrained silence. “Are you ever in London, Miss——?” “Goodwin. Oh, yes; we generally go over in the winter, Mr.——” “Cloyster. Really? How jolly. Do you go to the theatre much?”