“I won,” said Miss Inger, laughing.
There was a moment of suspense. Ursula’s heart was beating so fast, she clung to the rail, and could not move. Her dilated, warm, unfolded, glowing face turned to the mistress, as if to her very sun.
“Good-bye,” said Miss Inger, and she swam away to the other pupils, taking professional interest in them.
Ursula was dazed. She could still feel the touch of the mistress’s body against her own—only this, only this. The rest of the swimming time passed like a trance. When the call was given to leave the water, Miss Inger walked down the bath towards Ursula. Her rust-red, thin tunic was clinging to her, the whole body was defined, firm and magnificent, as it seemed to the girl.
“I enjoyed our race, Ursula, did you?” said Miss Inger.
The girl could only laugh with revealed, open, glowing face.
The love was now tacitly confessed. But it was some time before any further progress was made. Ursula continued in suspense, in inflamed bliss.
Then one day, when she was alone, the mistress came near to her, and touching her cheek with her fingers, said with some difficulty.
“Would you like to come to tea with me on Saturday, Ursula?”
The girl flushed all gratitude.