"Bertrand, mademoiselle."
She held up an admonitory finger. "Chris!"
"Christine," he said, with his friendly smile.
She nodded. "Now don't forget! I think I shall call you Bertie because it sounds more English. I'm going to dive now, so don't row any farther."
She sprang to her feet and stepped on to the thwart, where she stood balancing, her arms above her head.
He waited motionless to see her go. But she remained poised for several seconds, the sunlight full upon her slim, straight figure and bare, upraised arms. Her hair, that had begun to dry, fluttered a little in the breeze. The splendour of it almost dazzled the onlooker. He sat with bated breath. She was like a young goddess, invoking the spirit of the morning.
Suddenly she turned a laughing face over her shoulder. "Bertie!"
He pulled himself together. "Christine!" he answered, with a quick smile.
She laughed a little more. "Well done! I wondered if you would remember.
Will you do something for me?"
"All that you wish," he said.