‘Nothing—nothing,’ Graham answered almost confusedly. ‘It is just in his—his manner.’
‘That means, I suppose, that he is nicer—after all!’
‘No, it doesn’t mean anything of the kind.’
‘Well, it must mean something, you know. And if not that, why are you afraid to tell me?’
‘I’m not afraid to tell you.... It means just that he likes—me.’ He gazed down through the water.
Brocklehurst regarded him a little strangely. For a moment he seemed about to speak, but in the end, without saying anything, he dipped his oars and began to row back.
A long silence followed.
‘Where shall we go now?’ Brocklehurst asked gently. The boat was heading for the cliffs, which rose, dark and naked, out of the clear water.
‘There is a place a little to the left where I think we can land if you would care to bathe.’
Brocklehurst brought the boat round to the desired spot, and they scrambled out on to a broad flat shelf of rock where, having made fast the rope, they sat for a while dangling their feet over the edge.