"Would you rather I didn't swim out so far again, Paul?" she asked presently, in a softened voice.
"Why should I break your spirit?" the man argued, more reasonably, perhaps, than he intended.
"Oh, but it isn't worth it if it worries you," his sweetheart said earnestly. "Nothing's worth that, when you have so much to bear besides. I've had my foolish way and now I promise you I'll paddle with you, dear old muff, in two feet of water all the rest of the holidays."
Ingram turned to her now. "Nelly, I don't want to disappoint you, but—but, there won't be any 'rest of the holidays' for us this summer."
She looked into his face; her own alarmed and pleading.
"You're not going, Paul? Oh, you promised to stay on until we all went back together."
"I know, I know," he answered, with an impatience that was none the less real because it was the expression of his reluctance to give pain. Silken bonds strain at times.
"Something has happened then, since last night? What is it, dear?"
"I had a letter this morning. It had been waiting at the 'Arrêt.'"
"A letter at last! Oh! Paul—Why didn't you tell me? Is it good news?"