"Better go slow upon that protecting-heroine-from-villain stunt. I see
Friend Husband is getting a bit restless."
He forged on into the surf, with long, powerful strokes that yet had the curious appearance of indolence which invests every action of his.
Startled at his words, I looked toward the place where I had last seen
Dicky romping in the waves with Grace Draper.
The girl was swimming by herself. Dicky, with rapid strokes, was coming toward us.
"For the love of heaven, Madge!" he said, angrily, as he came up to us. "Haven't you any more sense than to come away out here? This sea is calm, but it is treacherous, and you are farther out than you have ever gone before. Come back with me this minute."
The sight of Grace Draper swimming by herself gave me an inspiration. The game which Lillian had advised me to play was certainly succeeding. I would keep it up.
"Have you taken leave of your senses?" I demanded, assuming an indignation I did not feel. "Dr. Pettit was saying nothing to me that could possibly interest you." I felt a little twinge of conscience at the fib, but I had too much at stake to hesitate over a quibble. "As for casting sheep's eyes, as you so elegantly express it, you've been doing so much of it yourself that I suppose it is natural for you to accuse other people of it."
"Now what do you mean by that?" Dicky demanded, staring at me with such an innocent air that I could have laughed if I had not been thoroughly angry at his silly attempt to misunderstand me.
"Don't be silly, Dicky," I said, pettishly; "I can swim perfectly well out here and even if anything should happen, Dr. Pettit and Mr. Underwood are surely good swimmers enough to take care of me." I could not resist putting that last little barbed arrow into my quiver, for Dicky, while a good swimmer, even I could see, was not as skillful as either Mr. Underwood or Dr. Pettit.
Dicky waited a long moment before answering, then he spoke tensely, sternly: