“H’m!” commented Hepworth; “much you know about Sorolla’s work, if you express it in those terms.”
“Well, you see I’m not an artist,” said Van Reypen, for Mr. Hepworth’s tone was so good-natured he couldn’t feel annoyed.
“Who can swim?” Philip went on. “I’m for a long dash out to that farthest buoy.”
“I can swim,” returned Patty, “but I won’t go as far out as that buoy. I’ll swim part way.”
“Come on, then;” and the two splashed into the breakers. Patty was a good swimmer, and there was not much surf that morning, so she had no trouble in keeping up with Philip for a fairly good distance. Then she said: “Now I’m going to turn back, Mr. Van Reypen. I’ve learned by experience that it is better to turn back while we can.”
Van Reypen looked at her reproachfully as they swam slowly side by side. “You called me Philip, last night,” he said.
“I know it;” and Patty smiled roguishly; “but, you see, that was under stress of a great emergency. I scarcely realised what I was doing,—and I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“I’ll forgive you only on condition that you never call me Mr. Van Reypen again, and that you give me permission to call you Patty.”
“Aren’t you demanding a great deal?”
“Yes, I am, indeed; but you are so generous-minded that I have a hope of your consent.”