Disconcerted, she stood up--a straight youthful figure against the sea.

The wind blowing her dishevelled hair across her cheeks and shoulders, fluttered her clinging skirts as she rested both hands on her hips and slowly walked toward the water's edge.
"Shall we swim ?" he asked her.
She half turned and looked around and down at him.
"I'm all right; it's stopped bleeding.

Shall we ?" he inquired, looking up at her.

"You've got to wash your hair again, anyhow." She said, feeling suddenly stupid and childish, and knowing she was speaking stupidly: "Would you not rather join Gladys again?
I thought that--that--" "Thought _what_ ?" "Nothing," she said, furious at herself; "I am going to the showers.
Good-bye." "Good-bye," he said, troubled--"unless we walk to the pavilion together--" "But you are going in again; are you not ?" "Not unless you do." "W-what have I to do with it, Captain Selwyn ?" "It's a big ocean--and rather lonely without you," he said so seriously that she looked around again and laughed.
"It's full of pretty girls just now.

Plunge in, my melancholy friend.
The whole ocean is a dream of fair women to-day." "'If they be not fair to me, what care I how fair they be,'" he paraphrased, springing to his feet and keeping step beside her.
"Really, that won't do," she said; "much moonlight and Gladys and the Minster twins convict you.