Eyes that looked to see him rise and swim stared, stared where he was gone and whence he came not: then saw his body rise--all lumped up, the back of its shoulders, not its head. Then watched it, all lumped up, slightly below the surface, bobbed tossing round the cliff within the inlet: out of sight in the further corner: now bumping along the further wall: now submerged and out of view. Now washed against the pulpit rock: now a long space bumping about it: now drawn beyond it: gone. BOOK FOUR ONE OF THE OLDEST ONES CHAPTER I KINDNESS WITHOUT GRATITUDE I In the place where Mr. Wriford next found himself he first heard the reverberant thunder of the sea. He realised with sudden terror that he was not holding on; and as one starting out of bad dreams--but he had no dreams--in sudden terror he clutched with both his hands. That which his hands clutched folded soft and warm within their grasp, and then he heard a pleasant voice say: "Why, there you are! You've kept us waiting a long time, you know!" He found he was in a bed. A man, and two women who wore white aprons and caps and nice blue dresses, stood at its foot and were smiling at him. The sun was shining on their faces, and it was through windows behind him that the sound of the sea came. While, very puzzled, he watched these smiling strangers, the man stepped to him and slipped firm, reassuring fingers about his wrist where his hand lay clutching the blue quilt that covered him. "No need to cling on like that, you know," said the man, disengaging his grasp. "You're all right now." Mr. Wriford made one or two attempts at speech. "I don't--I don't think I--I don't think--" He checked himself each time. His voice sounded so weak and strange that he thought each time to better it. He was not successful; and he let it go as it would with: "I don't think I ought to be here." The women smiled at that, and the man said: "Well, I don't know where else you should be, I'm sure. You're very comfortable here." "You're just in the middle of a nice sleep, you know," said one of the women, bending over the bed-rail towards him. "I think I should just finish it if I were you." The other one said: "Would you like to hold my hand again?" "There's an offer for you," said the man. "I'm sure I would." There was a sound of quiet laughter, and the woman who had last spoken came to a chair by Mr. Wriford's side and sat down and took his hand. He somehow felt that that was what he had wanted, and he closed his eyes.