Every line of her supple figure accented the listless, disdainful intention.

As he remained motionless she turned, bent gracefully and laid her palms flat on the surface of the water, then looked idly over her shoulder at him.
He waded back close to her, she watching him advance without apparent interest--but watching him nevertheless.
"Have you heard that anybody and myself are supposed to be engaged ?" he asked.
"No," she replied coolly; "have you ?" A dark flush mantled his face and he choked.
For a moment they stood so; her brows were raised a trifle.
"Well ?" she asked at last.

"Have I made you _very_ angry, Mr.Malcourt ?" She waded out a step or two toward the surf, facing it.

The rollers breaking just beyond made her foothold precarious; twice she nearly lost her balance; the third time he caught her hand to steady her and held it as they faced the surges, swaying together.
She did not look again at him.

They stood for a while unsteadily, her hand in his grasp.
"Why on earth did you say such a thing to me ?" he asked.
"I don't--know," she said simply; "I really don't, Mr.Malcourt." And it was true; for their slight acquaintance warranted neither badinage nor effrontery; and she did not understand the sudden impulse toward provocation, unless it might be her contempt for Shiela Cardross.
And that was the doing of Mrs.Van Dieman.
"I'm sorry," she said, looking up at him, and after a moment, down at their clasped hands.