then he circled within observation
distance of several pretty girls, displayed his qualities as a swimmer
for their benefit, and finally struck out shoreward.

When he emerged from the surf he looked about for Shiela. She was
already half-way to the beach, walking with Cecile and Hamil toward the
pavilion; and, starting across the shallows to overtake her, he
suddenly came face to face with Virginia Suydam.

She was moving hip-deep out through the seething tide, slim, graceful, a
slight flush tinting the usual delicate pallor of her cheeks. Gussie
Vetchen bobbed nimbly about in the vicinity, very busy trying to look at
everybody and keep his balance at the same time. Miss Palliser was
talking to Cuyp.

As Malcourt waded past, he and Miss Suydam exchanged a pleasantly formal
greeting; and, for the second time, something in her casual gaze--the
steadiness of her pretty green-tinted eyes, perhaps--perhaps their
singular colour--interested him.

"You did not ask _me_ to your luncheon," he said gaily, as he passed her
through the foam.

"No, only petticoats, Mr. Malcourt. I am sorry that your--fiancee isn't
coming."

He halted, perfectly aware of the deliberate and insolent indiscretion
of her reply. 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 understa