Ah, friend Matey! And that was right and good on land; but rightness and goodness flung earth's shadow across her brilliancy here, and any stress on 'this once' withdrew her liberty to revel in it, putting an end to perfect holiday; and silence, too, might hint at fatigue. She began to think her muteness lost her the bloom of the enchantment, robbing her of her heavenly frolic lead, since friend Matey resolved to be as eminently good in salt water as on land. Was he unaware that they were boy and girl again?—she washed pure of the intervening years, new born, by blessing of the sea; worthy of him here!—that is, a swimmer worthy of him, his comrade in salt water.
'You're satisfied I swim well?' she said.
'It would go hard with me if we raced a long race.'
'I really was out for France.'
'I was ordered to keep you for England.' She gave him Browny's eyes.
'We've turned our backs on Triton.'
'The ceremony was performed.'
'When?'
'The minute I spoke of it and you splashed.'
'Matey! Matey Weyburn!'